Hot For Teacher
by Xenakisfox101112
Summary: Alt-Universe-kind-of-thing... Wheatley Aptur is a subsitute teacher with an adventurous roomate. One day he goes to sub for one of the most presigious professors in the area. Gladys Apenor. R&R
1. Gladys Apenor

_"Oohh, Wheatley! You're so smart, talented, and awesome!" the young Japanese woman sighed. "__Arigatou," Wheatley replied, running his hand down her smooth black hair, "You're pretty awesome yourself, luv." The woman blushed. "Don't you have some place to be, Mr. Full-Time Teacher! What do you plan on getting with all the heaps of money you make?" Wheatley sighed and looked around the gold and red room filled with all kinds of things. Things he could only _dream_ of getting. "I'll probably buy another yacht, or… an island perhaps. What do you think?"_

_ She smiled brightly. "I think you-"_

"NEED TO GET UP!"

Wheatley's bright blue eyes flashed open, quickly forcing into a glare. He sat up. "What the hell, Rick!"

Rick snickered, "What? You weren't getting up any other times I shouted at you."

"How many times did you shout?"

His smiled widened. "Once. Plus your alarm. Which went off like 10 minutes ago. Don't you have a job today?"

Wheatley turned to the alarm clock to the left of him on a little brown nightstand. 8.40 a.m.

The young man's heart shot up into his throat. "_8:40_! BRILLIANT!" He snatched up his rectangular glasses, leapt out of bed and began to gather up clothes he'd set the night before on the end of his bed. "This is the first _bloody _job I get in a _month_ and I'm going to show up_ LATE_!"

"Maybe you should change professions, Mr. Substitute-Teach."

"Maybe _you_," Wheatley growled, shoving his roommate out of the room, "Should _get_ a profession!" He slammed the door in his stupid adventurous face.

Rick smiled and shook his head. "British people."

"I'm Irish, too you wanker!" Wheatley shouted back pulling on the black slacks.

He made it out the door in another ten minutes with teeth brushed, light brown hair (slightly) combed, and no breakfast. Oh well.

The collage Wheatley Aptur was planning for a subbing job was about three miles away, there goes another ten minutes. He'll be lucky if he makes it in the building five minutes late. The collage was one specifically built for the study of science. All forms of it. Wheatley dabbled in science himself, but only managed to attain a bachelors. The teacher he would be subbing for had a Ph.D, he recalled.  
>Gulp. Well, it was the money that really counted. Money and experience. There was always that slim chance someone would offer him a job if he did well… If only… If only he wouldn't screw it up in some way. Sometimes Wheatley felt like such a… <em>moron<em>. Well, maybe that was harsh, but he seemed accident prone or something.

Even if everything was good and right, and it looked like nothing bad could happen, Wheatley could find a way, unintentional or not, to mess it up.

That's how Ms. Gladys Apenor's classroom looked. Large, grand, organized, beautiful… and most of all, not completely destroyed. Wheatley had arrived slightly before all the students started piling in. Apparently, this class was the best science class in this whole state area. Maybe the state. All because of the teacher. She was amazing. Like she had a capacity for endless amounts of knowledge. She didn't just teach basic science. Physics, chemistry, biology…

If you wanted to go into the field of science, you go through Apenor first.

And the big cheese herself stood near her desk, bent over, collecting papers.

_Don't screw this up Wheats_ the sub growled to himself, and made his way to the woman.

"Hello, I'm here for that, uh, subbing, job… thing?" _Subbing-job-thing. Brilliant, mate._

Gladys looked up, meeting bright blue eyes with cold amberish-yellow eyes. Was that her natural eye color? Intimidating… "Mr. Aptur… Yes," she seemed to size him up, and straightened a bit, "You are late." She met his eyes again. Her hair was platinum blonde (could even look white in some light), cut in an a-line bob, a line of fringe hovering above her eyebrows. Very professional.

"Heh," Wheatley mumbled nervously, "But it won't happen on the job!"

"As of now, you _are _on the job, Mr. Aptur," Gladys said, expressionless.

"O…kay…" he replied slowly as she continued collecting papers, "Feel free to call me Wheatley, by the way."

"Wheatley…" she parroted, as if mulling over the name.

"My family is a bit kooky, in my opinion, naming me after a grain," Wheatley smiled, "But it grows on you. …Get it. Grows. 'Cause it's a plant-"

"I will stick with Mr. Aptur, thank you," Gladys mused, her voice just above monotone. She sounded like one of those operators you get sent to when you get someone's voicemail. _Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice-messaging system…_

"Alright then, Ms. Apenor," Wheatley replied, trying to stay as positive as possible.

"Today you will be observing," Gladys began, "To see what we are currently doing and what to expect. Tomorrow will consist of nothing more than a test. You are merely a supervisor. So no need for the use of notes or anything."

"Yes, ma'am," Wheatley replied with a nod.

Gladys eyed him. "I am twenty-seven years old. _Ma'am_ is a term for middle-aged mothers, is it not?"

"Oh, I didn't mean-" Wheatley stuttered, "I'm twenty-five, I was just-"

"I did not ask for your age," Gladys purred coldly, as the _bing_ from the announcer speaker in the wall next to the door when off, signaling the start of class, "Take a seat next to Chell," she pointed behind him, "She is my best student. A senior here. A year younger than you, since we appear to be sharing ages here."

"I, uh, heh-"

"Go."

Wheatley spun on his heels to see rows after rows of students. All the seats filled except for one in the front, next to a girl with long brown hair. Wheatley slowly made his way to the young woman, sitting next to her, folding his hands in his lap sheepishly. "Chell" paid him no mind.

He turned to her. "Are you Chell?" he asked.

The girl looked to him and silently nodded.

"I'm Wheatley," he beamed, reaching out, "I'm the ol' bloke taking the place of Ms. Apenor up there."

Another nod, and the silent girl looked up to Gladys as she began her lecture.

Wheatley shrank and put his hand back in his lap. Wow, good thing he was only supervising, because he was pretty sure they ran idiots out of town with pitch forks and torches if they tried to teach.

_#_

"The place is just so damn _clean_!" Wheatley ranted, "Not a spec'a dust! Anywhere! I'm afraid if I touch anything, it'll burst into flames!"

"Sounds pretty adventurous," Rick replied, stuffing more pop corn into mouth.

"And the teacher! She's a robot!" Wheatley laughed.

"Is she hot?"

Wheatley thought for a second. She was pale skinned, practically white hair, orange eyes… "She was statuesque, kind of flawless, really," Wheatley thought out loud.

"Not like a poet you dumbfuck," Rick sighed, "Tall? Fat? Skinny? Boobs?

"Ehh…" Wheatley shrugged, "'Hot' isn't the right word, mate."

"Whatever, man," Rick took of swig of his beer and sighed, "Just pay the rent so I don't have to take ten minute showers."

"What the hell do you even do in the shower?" Wheatley inquired.

"My hair is too thick and luxurious for ten minutes."

Wheatley starred at him for a few seconds as his roommate watch the basketball game.

"You're full of shit, you bloody wanker."

_ # _

The next day, Gladys wasn't there, as expected, and Wheatley showed up ten minutes early. Take _that_ Ms. Apenor…

Wheatley settled down at the desk. Nothing on it but a lamp, and a cup of pens. Everything was so _neat_! He bet Gladys had a serious case of OCD. Very serious, because even the pens in the cup seemed to be fanned out in a certain order.

Only a couple students were already there. "Hello, mates," Wheatley called out, "Ready for this test?"

A petite asian girl looked up from the third row and smiled. "Yeah, maybe. If GLaDOS didn't make it ridiculously hard again. I almost C-d the last one."

"GLaDOS?" Wheatley echoed.

"Yeah, that's just a kind of… school nick name? I guess. For Gladys."

"Sounds like a computer program," Wheatley chuckled.

"Well, she sure sounds like one, if you ask me," the girl smiled, "But she's a great teacher. Our GLaDOS."

"GLaDOS," Wheatley echoed again to himself.

"I know right?" A blonde boy said from the back, "Hey, sub, any chance we could get the answer key?"

The kids in the room chuckled quietly.

Wheatley smiled, "Sorry, no can do," he paused, "So how long has _'GLaDOS' _been teaching here?"

"Almost six years, I think," the asian girl replied, "Her skills have just been so blown up, everyone who wants to major in science flock to her."

"She's so young, though."

"She got into collage when she was like fifteen, passed the SATs, ACTs with flying colors."

"Huh. Smart."

"Extremely," the blonde boy snickered, "I heard her thesis on matter was flawless. Her little teacher's pet is down in front there."

Wheatley looked down, surprised to see Chell, sitting in her seat from yesterday, quietly studying. "Oh, I didn't even notice her."

"Yeah, Chell's quiet," another boy with black hair and round glasses mused, "Real quiet. Only time she really talks is to ask a question or something. And even then we can barely hear her. But for some reason GLaDOS can always answer her."

"Spooky," Wheatley chuckled, looking to Chell who hadn't given the slightest reply.

The class came and went, Wheatley passing out and collecting tests. He didn't know what exactly to do with them, so he just sat them in a neat pile on GLaD- er, Gladys' desk. Sheesh, that was catching on. Nice ring to it. Rolls off the tongue.

GLaDOS.

GLLLLLaaaaaaDOOOOOOSSSSSSS….

"Ah, Mr. Aptur."

Wheatley looked up to see GLaDO- damn it, _Gladys_ walking towards him, holding a white binder. She set it down on the desk, and looked at him. She was about an inch taller, thanks to her knee-high black boots. She wore a black turtle neck shirt and white slacks, tucked into her boots, with a white lab coat. "Ms, um, Apenor," Wheatley replied, "How was, uh, wherever you were?"

"I was attending a meeting with a few colleges on the topic of curriculum," Gladys mused, "I was hoping you would still be present; in the meeting, the topic of assistant teachers came up."

A slow smile began to creep up on Wheatley's lips.

"And as I looked over your qualifications, and the fact that a few large tests are approaching," Gladys cocked her head to the side a little bit, "Would you like a job Mr. Aptur?"

"God, yes!" Wheatley burst, "Er, I mean, yes. Yes please. Thank you so much!"

"It is a temporary one," Gladys continued, "You would be helping me grade, maybe help with a lesson or two, and the hours are rather long."

"Fine with me!" Wheatley gasped and took her thin hand, shaking it with the utmost gratitude, "How long will it last?"

Gladys raised an eyebrow at her new assistant and took her hand back. Wheatley blushed a little in embarrassment. "Approximately three weeks, just past testing time, so you can help me grade and such," Gladys responded, her voice still hovering above monotone, "The term might stretch due to predicted circumstances, but other than that, three weeks."

"Predicted circumstances?"

"A student might be absent one day, and still need to take the test. They will do it on their own time, but we still need to grade," she replied, "Or I might… give you a permanent position."

Wheatley felt light headed.

"But this will be based on your performance," Gladys warned.

And, light-headedness gone.

"Be here tomorrow at seven a.m. Sharp," she said. Then she walked around him towards another room in the back of the class. On her way in, Wheatley found his eyes trailing down her back to her swaying hips, resting on her…

"You are still here?" she mused, turning around.

Wheatley blinked, his face heating up, "Uh, heh, yeah, um, see you, uh… tomorrow." And then he practically ran out of the room.

What his eyes failed to admire was the sly smile that trickled onto Gladys 'GLaDOS' Apenor's lips.

_#_

As Wheatley drove home, his mind wandered. A job! Finally! He prayed he wouldn't mess it up- he needed this. He silently thanked Gladys over and over and _over_ again! He would be seeing her almost every day now…

The comment from Rick the other night crept into his head. _Is she hot? _

Again, _hot_ wasn't the right word.

God damn it, Rick. Wheatley couldn't be hot for teacher. This woman would be his boss. This was like that situation where, you don't really think about something until someone mentions it. Wheatley didn't even pay attention to Gladys' looks until that comment.

Okay, he would have to stay focused!

Focus…

Fooooocussss…..

…Dat. Ass.

God damn it.

_#_

The next day Wheatley forced Rick to wake him up at the appropriate hour. He spent way too much time on his appearance, which worried him a little, ate a small breakfast and was out the door at 6:30 a.m.

He made it to the collage early, 6:55, and assumed that because of her extreme OCD, that Gladys would be angry if he arrived early, so he waited outside the door for a minute before 7:00, and walked in on the dot.

"Hello!" Wheatley beamed, walking in. He looked to Chell's seat, not surprised to see her there, studying, as always; silently.

Gladys looked up from some papers she was reviewing at her desk, and nodded. "Pricelessly punctual, Mr. Aptur. Today's lesson will consist of the transference of matter in the vacuum space. Astronomy has always been a favorite subject of mine."

"Mmm…" Wheatley replied, "Kind of scares me. Like, what if someone were to get stuck out there?"

"They would explode due to the balance of air-"

"Yes, but like in a space suit," Wheatley interrupted, "what would you even do in space? Just, float around?"

"…In theory, yes," Gladys said with an expression that _looked_ like a glare. Towards Wheatley.

"Ah, space," Wheatley sighed.

"Yes," Gladys practically hissed.

The class day ensued without a hitch, and turned out that Gladys had several more classes throughout the day. Goody.

Wheatley had managed not to screw up the next week, (with the exception of almost breaking a few beakers in her storage room and setting fire to some _thankfully_ unimportant papers), and the assistant teacher went home tired, and happy every night.

_#_

Gladys Apenor printed out the last essay from her email. Her eyes burned slightly, and her shoulders ached from spending so much time at her desk grading, so she figured she would take a break and draw a nice bath to relax in. With a nice book maybe.

Gladys didn't ask for the brain she had, and on occasion cursed it. She sometimes wondered if all this success was worth sacrificing her social life. She seldom had any friends, not counting some of her colleges, not to mention any form of a romantic relationship. Who has time for that nonsense? Feelings all jumbled up… All they are is reactions to energy pulses from the brain called emotions. She had better things to do.

That is, until she hired Wheatley Aptur. He was a moron, no doubt. He babbled all week long, even giving Gladys a couple headaches. He interrupted her a few times that week, and all she wanted to do slap him- very hard. She might be overreacting; she took that into account. But the issue still stood. Wheatley was a complete an utter moron.

And Gladys found herself infuriatingly, and undeniably, attracted to him.

…As she sat naked in a tub filled with hot water, her mind wandered to the possibilities… the chances of… her… and him…

She shook her head. He was an idiot. A moron.

And Gladys Apenor hated morons with every fiber of her being.

_#Two Weeks Later#_

"So this is your last week?" Rick asked, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Wheatley nodded, running a hand through his thick hair and collected his things. "Yep. I'm praying for that full time position! I would love to work for GLaDO- er, Gladys, to be her assistant…"

"More like bang-buddy," Rick snickered.

"What!" Wheatley glared, feeling a blush coming on, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You speak so damn _fondly_ of her," Rick drawled, "GLaDOS this, Gladys that."

"She gave me a _job_. _Money_," Wheatley retorted, "I'm grateful."

"So is your dick."

Wheatley opened his mouth to respond, but shut it. Then said, "I'm going to work."

"Let me know if you get any puuuuussssyyyyy~" Rick sang.

"Fuck you!" Wheatley snapped and slammed the door behind him.

_#_

"Your assignments are due next Tuesday," Gladys said, "Forgetfulness is not an excuse."

"She means you, Simon," Wheatley called out to a young man with chestnut hair who looked back with a smile and rolled his eyes.

Gladys looked back to Wheatley, a _shut up_ kind of look on her face, to which Wheatley responded with a timid smile.

It was the last class of the day, almost 5 o' clock p.m., Wheatley assumed she was a little cranky. She seemed to be cranky a lot lately…

"Mr. Aptur," Gladys said suddenly, "Join me for a trip to Mrs. Kinney's storage room?"

"Um, sure," Wheatley responded and stood, following Gladys out the door. Mrs. Kinney was one of Gladys' many colleges, and Wheatley guessed Gladys just needed some supplies…

She did have a better network connection than her room.

Gladys stopped at a door further down the corridor, a door Wheatley didn't recognize. "Uh, who's room is this?"

Gladys opened the door. "It is a room reserved for storing the larger equipment needed for experiments."

"I thought-"

"Shut up."

And then she grabbed him by the shirt, and yanked him hard into the dark storage room. Wheatley stumbled a bit and quickly looked back as Gladys shut the door. No light made it into the room, no matter how big his pupils got.

First thought: _holy shit, she's gunna kill me._

"Gladys?" Wheatley questioned, "What are you-?"

She shoved him up against a wall.

"Gah! What the-!"

And then he felt her lips shove against his.

Second thought: _holy shit, she's going to rape me._

"Mmm…" Wheatley mumbled against her mouth. He felt a hand come around his neck and his waist. He wanted to pull away. The little voice in the back of his head he'd named Jiminy Cricket long ago screaming _what the hell are you doing?_

But then he felt her tongue slide across his bottom lip, ever so slowly…

Oh shit…

Wheatley gave a small sigh and opened for her. Her tongue slid over his, sending shivers down his spine. _Oh… God… _He closed his wide eyes and began to melt into her.

Gladys kissed him seemingly languidly, deepening them with a turn of her head.

_What the hell _am_ I doing?_

The kisses picked up after a little bit, followed by Gladys pressing her thumb into his pants…

Wheatley smiled against Gladys' lips, still not exactly processing what was happening. Gladys entangled her fingers in his thick hair, kissing him again, and again, and again… before breaking it off; a line of saliva dragging down Wheatley's chin.

He swallowed, still tasting his employer on his tongue. "Uhm…" he breathed, his voice cracking a little. She immediately attacked his neck, nipping and licking just under his jaw. He tilted his head to the side with a sigh, pressing her closer with a hand on the back of her neck. She then pressed a thigh between his legs.

"Ah…" Wheatley breathed, thankful for the darkness, for he was sure he was as red as a tomato now. With Gladys swirling patterns on his neck with her tongue, and the added pressure and rubbing on his groin, he thought it might be enough to…

_Beep, beep, beep._

Gladys pulled away, but not completely, her leg keeping its place. Wheatley licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair, feeling sweat on his brow. "Wh-what's that?"

She pulled out a small rectangular device from her pocket.

"My pager," Gladys said, completely unfazed, "I keep it on me in case of a lab emergency."

"Emergency?" Wheatley exhaled.

"Yes." She pulled away-away this time, leaving Wheatley to slowly cool down from, whatever the hell just happened. Gladys made for the door.

"W-wait!" Wheatley called weakly as she opened the door, "Why-?"

Gladys looked at him for a second, "Ask the office to order more liquid nitrogen. I am going to need it if this is the emergency I am thinking of."

And then she left.

Wheatley stood against the wall, stupefied. "Brilliant."


	2. Really, Really?

Gladys Fixed her white blouse and hair. Wiped her mouth and reapplied some chapstick. She didn't know what came over her, but she knew that for some reason, she wanted him, _right then_.

This was ridiculous, these feelings, urges, _Jesus Christ_. She was a woman of science. Not someone who pounces on the first male to remotely like to be around her. Plus, he wasn't even her type. He's a moron.

There was a logical explanation for this. Maybe it was her body's reaction to lack of affection… Ugh, she was _not_ going to let this turn into some sitcom script.

_Lonely scientist meets British idiot_.

Oh, how rich…

_#_

Wheatley debated on telling Rick about his… encounter, but decided against it. He would never hear the end of it if he breathed a word of it.

On his way down to the office, he contemplated what just happened. He was assaulted. By his boss. Wasn't that technically sexual harassment? Well, could it be called harassment if you liked it? Wheatley stopped, mid-step, and shook his head. No, no, no. That was completely uncalled for. Yeah. Sure he almost… uh… hm. Nevermind. But this was unacceptable! He would have to confront her. Ask her what the fuck that was.

…And then ask her on a date.

Heh.

Maybe it wasn't her fault. Maybe Wheatley was just _that_ irresistible. Women do like foreign men. And who doesn't love an adorable British-Irish accent. (I mean, come _on_.)

So, he came home late, after going to the office to order more liquid nitrogen, and headed straight to bed, without a word to a curious Rick.

_#_

_ "Hnngh."_

_ "God, Aptur, you are so…"_

_ "Fu… ah!"_

"_Hard…"_

"_GLaaaa….shit… luv…"_

"_I am sorry, what?"_

"_Please, I- ooohhh…"_

"_Mmhm…"_

"Bro, time to get up."

Wheatley sleepily opened his eyes. "What?"

"Sorry, I woke up late," Rick mused, "And you slept right through your alarm. It's almost eight."

"WHAT."

"Oh, and I think your, uh," he began to laugh as he walked out of the room, "Your little tent sprung a leak."

Wheatley felt his eye twitch a little, and as he moved out of the bed, he felt the wetness in his sweat pants.

"God damn it."

_#_

Wheatley got to the collage extremely late, having to take a shower from his, uh, dream… thing.

Okay, fine. He had a wet dream. Don't lots of men? No need to feel ashamed.

…Unless it's about your _boss_ who just _molested_ you the night before.

FUUUUUUUU-

Wheatley tried his best to sneak into the classroom without disturbing anything too much, until he heard Gladys' voice, making him shiver.

"Mr. Aptur," she mused, "Glad to see you finally showed up."

"Heh," Wheatley exhaled, walking in, trying to avoid eye contact with the young-adults who were obviously staring at him, "I, uh, woke up late and-"

"I have no need for your excuses," Gladys replied coldly, "Just take your seat and _try _not to be a distraction again."

Wheatley swallowed and walked past her, making eye contact with her for a split second. Gladys raised a condescending eyebrow at him and looked back at the class to continue her lesson.

The next few days went by relatively awkwardly, at least for Wheatley.

He only had one more dream about her, but it didn't bring him to- well, you know.

Just them kissing. A lot.

Wheatley wondered by his last day officially on the job, if he wasn't rehired. He was too afraid to confront her. He learned that by the looks she gave him whenever he began to approach her even remotely determined. So, like a coward, he shrank down like a bug, no, like a grain of wheat, and found himself held up late in Gladys' office, grading a few last minute tests from absent students. Gladys was elsewhere, probably working on that experiment she was conducting with other colleges of her's.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," Wheatley mused to himself quietly with a smile, tapping his pen on the desk, "Heh, what the hell was this kid thinking? I swear, the things people-"

"Still grading?"

Wheatley almost jumped out of his skin and looked up to see Gladys, shutting the door. "Gladys, hello. Um, what are you… uh, are you done with that lab… stuff, now?"

"For the time being, yes," she replied. Then, Wheatley's heart skipped a beat when he swore he heard a lock being turned. He swallowed and looked down at the papers nervously. "Alright then."

"I know you are a little… flustered from our… encounter," Gladys began, moving towards him silently.

"_Flustered? Encounter?_" Wheatley laughed, "You shoved me into a storage room and stuck your tongue down my throat, luv!"  
>Gladys was quiet for a few seconds. "Indeed, I did."<p>

"_Indeed_," Wheatley turned the chair, beginning to get worked up, "That was totally uncalled for, and… I think I deserve an explanation!"

"Mm," Gladys said with a roll of her perfect amber eyes. She pushed the chair back against the desk, Wheatley still in it of course, and casually swung her right leg over his lap and sat on his legs, straddling him. Wheatley blushed and cleared his throat. "Uhm," he squeaked, "I don't think-"

"When did I say I cared about what you thought?" Gladys growled, scooting close enough to rub against his crotch.

"Heh," Wheatley replied sheepishly, avoiding eye contact, "I just, uh, don't think this is very… appropriate for co-workers."

He could feel her sarcastic glare without even looking at her. He looked back at her for a second and she leaned in. Wheatley turned his head at the last second, going against the hormones plaguing his mind at the moment. Gladys ended up kissing his cheek and pulled back only a little. Then with a frustrated sigh, took Wheatley's chin in three fingers, forcing his head back towards her.

"Right," Gladys mused and roughly pressed her lips against his.

_Here we go again_…

Wheatley tentatively placed a hand on her thigh and a hand on her hip as he kissed back with little confidence. Gladys' hands had migrated to his hair, kneading the back of his head, a thumb brushing over his left temple back and forth.

Wheatley opened his mouth slightly, beginning to turn his head. Gladys then plunged her tongue into his mouth making Wheatley quiver with anticipation. He let her explore his mouth for a few seconds before pressing back with his own tongue only to find out just how dominative the professor really was.

She pressed her chest against his, gaining a little height and ground up against his crotch. She immediately began kissing him faster and harder, even biting Wheatley's lip at one point, making him whimper.

Wheatley did his best to keep up with her, kissing back with little noises from each of them- only adding to the blood flowing to his trousers.

_Jesus…_

When Gladys finally broke it off, Wheatley was quietly gasping for air, trying not to appear weak or something in front of _her_. Then, she slowly got up and grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulling him up with her. Wheatley swallowed and stood, coming face to face with his "harasser".

Gladys leaned forward a little and flicked her tongue over Wheatley's bottom lip and pecked his lips before turning him almost completely around.

"I, uh," Wheatley breathed, "It's been a while since-"

"Look at me," Gladys hissed, "not caring." Then she shoved him backwards. Wheatley stumbled and fell back onto a couch he'd seen when he walked into the office only an hour ago. He hit his shoulder pretty hard on the arm of the couch and grunted. "Fuck," he retorted, "That hurt."

Gladys didn't respond, but merely straddled him again and pulled off her black blazer, exposing a white short-sleeved blouse underneath. Wheatley felt his cheeks warming at the fact he could almost see her bra through it. She leaned down again and whispered, "Scoot down."

He did as he was told and scooted down so he lay flat down on the couch. Wow, someone had control issues; because now, she was directly on top on him. She leaned down and continued where she had left off, kissing her assistant with fervor, coaxing little sighs from him which lit her whole body on fire. She inserted a leg between his and ground against him for the second time that evening. Wheatley moaned a little into her mouth, moving his hips back against hers; a dance they both knew. Her hands finally found the top of his shirt and slowly began to unbutton down his chest. Wheatley shivered for probably the fiftieth time that evening, and found her thighs again, daring to brush over her butt a little. Once his shirt was all the way undone, she trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses down his neck, approaching his chest…

And then Wheatley's cell phone rang.

"Oh for the love of-" Wheatley exhaled and dug his phone out of his front pocket. Gladys raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't stop little stream of kisses.

Wheatley quickly checked the contact before answering.

Rick.

God fucking damn it.

He flipped open the phone. "I'm kind of busy, mate," Wheatley growled.

"Where are you?" Ricked mused, "It almost 7. And guess what I pirated? Immortals. HD. Fuck yeah. Get over here."

"I, uh-" Wheatley replied and looked back to Gladys who's tongue had reached his waistline, and she began to undo his pants…

"Oh, geez," Wheatley squirmed and Gladys chuckled, not stopping.

"What was that?" Rick inquired.

"What was what-? Ah," he brushed her cheek with his fingers, trying to single for her to quit it, but she just took his hand and scooted up a little, before sticking two of his fingers in her mouth. He felt her tongue run up and down his fingers, sucking, biting a little…

Knowing exactly what she was itching at, he blushed, hard.

"Wait a second…" Rick snapped, "Your there with _her_ aren't you! I knew it!"

Wheatley tore his eyes away from one of the hottest things he's ever seen and replied, "I don't know what," Gladys stuck her hand down Wheatley's pants, grabbing hold of his fully erected length, "y-you're ta-hahh-lking about, maaaate…" Wheatley took the speaker of the phone away from his mouth, moaning quietly off to the side.

"Dude," Rick replied, Wheatley could _hear_ the smile on his stupid face, "No shame in getting laid."

"Shut," Wheatley squeaked as she began to drag his pants and boxers down, "Up."

"Uh huh."

Gladys, obviously fed up, sat up a little and snatched the phone from her moronic assistant.

"Wait-!" he protested.

"Sorry, Wheatley has to go," She purred, "Call back later." Then she promptly shut the phone and looked straight at him. Tossing the phone halfway across the room, she smiled condescendingly, her eyes half closed. "Now, where were we?"

"Uhm, heh," Wheatley replied awkwardly, "You…"

"Mm," she drawled, leaning down to him, "Right." She ran her tongue over his lips, Wheatley eagerly opening for her, and she kissed him deeply for a few seconds, then broke it off only to blindly kiss a trail to his throat. Wheatley sighed and remembered that his pants her halfway down his legs. "Uh.."

Gladys sat up and brought her hands to the top of her own blouse, undoing buttons, down, down, down…

Whoa.

Okay, black bra, and pale (almost white in this light) breasts.

"Okay then," Wheatley breathed. And then she undid her bra from behind, dropping it to the floor and scooting down. Wheatley looked up at the ceiling and silently thanked God; even though he had no idea what he had done to deserve all… this. This being Gladys. Why was she even interested in him? Didn't really… make sense…

"Luv," Wheatley mused quietly, "Before we… uh.. get on with, um, heh, _this_, uh, wh-why are you doing… me?" That last bit came out a bit awkward, but he thought he got the point across. Hopefully.

"I am your boss," Gladys replied with a smirk, "I do not have to explain myself to you, now do I?"

Wheatley was slightly stunned. "I… guess not…"

"Mmhm," she sat up on her knees and zipped down the side of the black skirt she wore, pulling it down with her tights and… thong?

_Huh. Never pinned her for a thong woman._

Wheatley ran his eyes down her pale body, the only thought crossing his mind: _damn._

She obviously didn't go outside a whole lot, telling from her skin tone, but her figure was amazing. Wow. Science… Wonder-Woman.

God he was such a nerd.

Coming back to reality, Gladys brushed her white hair behind her ear and took hold of him again. Wheatley squeaked and licked his lips. She pushed herself over him and inhaled audibly with a smile. "Not bad," she said in a low tone. Wheatley leaned his head back and exhaled, bucking his hips a little. Gladys followed suit, moving so her thighs rubbed against Wheatley's. His hands still on those smooth thighs, his heart raced as they picked up speed. There was no stifling moans at this point… even from Gladys. She thrusted against him, eyes closed tight, breathing heavy. Wheatley admired her for a second, before friction got the best of him and…

"Shhhaaaaaaa…" he breathed as he tensed and relaxed.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Gladys growled, just as breathless, "Really. Really?"

"Heh, heh… S-sorry," he huffed and chuckled to himself, "I've always been kind of an early kind of…"

"You couldn't, like, hold it in or something," she ranted, pulling off him.

Wheatley grinned. "It's… uh, kind of hot, seeing you all… discombobulated like this, luv."

"Don't- do _not_ call me that," Gladys snapped, "Come here." She peeled off her boots and skirt, leaning back. Wheatley sat up weakly and leaned forward. "Fingers," Gladys mused.

"What?" Wheatley muttered.

She glanced down. "Before you turn me completely off."

He blushed. "You want me to-"

"_Christ_." Then she took his hand, prying his middle finger and ring finger away from the others and yanked his hand south, pushing the fingers into her. Gladys closed her eyes. "Closer."

Wheatley scooted closer and began to move his hand, his fingers sliding in and out of her wet entrance. Well, this was a first. In all his sexually-active years, Wheatley had never gotten this request…  
>Rick is going to lose it.<p>

He rested his forehead on her shoulder, continuing to create friction, intoxicated by her heated breaths. He really hoped he didn't get another hard on. Gladys would be so pissed. But at the moment, she was a little distracted. The heel of Wheatley's hand brushing against her clitoris, she moaned quietly into his ear.

When Gladys finally came, she tensed and relaxed with a heavy sigh. Wheatley pulled his damp hand back, and smiled at Gladys, whose half open eyes drifted over to him. "Wipe that moronic grin off your face."

"Uh huh," he replied, smiling wider. He leaned in to kiss her, but she immediately moved to get up. Wheatley kind of just sat there. "Um."

Gladys retrieved her bra. "Clip," she growled, slipping the straps over her pale shoulders. He took the two stretched out pieces of fabric, and clasped them together. He began to slide his hands down her arms and kissed her neck. "So…?"

She stood and grabbed her underwear, slipping that on, and took the rest of her clothing in silence. "Uh," Wheatley said sheepishly, grabbing his own garments before realizing, he should _probably_ wash his hand…

Now fully dressed, Gladys turned to her assistant. "I will see you next week." And she turned for the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Wheatley gasped, pulling on his pants. He went to quickly stand, but he tripped on a pant leg and fell practically on his face. Seeing that she hadn't stopped, he quickly said, "Stop!"

She stopped and turned once more, her hands on her hips. "What."

"_What_?" Wheatley chortled nervously, "I feel like I should be paying you, luv! You're just leaving? You don't want to…?"

"To what?" she mused, putting emphasis on the H in _what_, "To stay and talk? To go out on a _date_?" she snickered arrogantly, "I thought you said this was inappropriate for co-workers."

Wheatley stood up and offered the most charming smile he could manage. "Oh, come on. You think this didn't mean anything?"

Gladys stood there for a second, her pure amber eyes locked on Wheatley's iridescent blue.

"Precisely."

And with that, she unlocked the door, and walked out.

Wheatley's mouth dropped. He felt… kind of hurt. Like, _hey, I like you, we had sex on a couch… but whatever_. It couldn't have meant nothing… right?

His heart hurt, his head hurt, and his hand still smelled like vag.

Well, it's going to be a long drive home.


	3. KindaSortaButNotReally Girlfriend

Wheatley walked up the stairs to his apartment slowly. He prayed that Rick was asleep or out… two things he knew weren't likely. He swallowed before he opened the door and when he did, he prepared himself to be berated with questions- questions that never came. Rick was calmly sitting there, watching Immortals; a bowl of probably the most buttery popcorn on the face of the planet next to him.

"Um," Wheatley murmured, "Hi."

Rick looked up to him, obviously suppressing a smile. "So, how was work?"

Wheatley glared and shut the door. "Whatever, mate."

Rick immediately paused the gory movie and hopped to his feet. About three inches taller than him, twice his size, Wheatley's roommate was a little intimidating excited…

"What the hell happened?" he questioned anxiously, "I knew it was going to happen, but seriously. Tell me everything."

"You sound like a teenage girl talking about her friend about losing her virginity…" Wheatley grumbled.

"This might as well be that situation, bro," Rick mused, stepping in front of his blue roommate, "How was it?"

"None of your business," Wheatley retorted, moving around him down the hall to the bathroom. He'd washed his hands at the collage, but he felt like a shower was necessary. Plus, good thinking time.

Rick laughed. "That bad? Ouch, man. She sounded like a hot mess over the phone."

Wheatley rubbed the back of his neck and turned to Rick. "She came at me- alright? She… lead most of… well everything, frankly. But…" Ugh. Why couldn't he think?

"But…" Rick said, beginning to finish the sentence as he leaned against the wall, "She regretted it or something?"

"Sure as hell felt like it…" Wheatley spat quietly, turning, and entering the bathroom, cutting off any more chances for conversation on the topic with his adventurous roommate.

"Damn," Rick said to himself, crossing his arms, "Bitch."

_#_

"Gladys, I need that overview by tomorrow, alright?" said a professor with lavender eyes.

"I will have it to you by tomorrow, Mr. Spher," Gladys mused in return, emphasizing the formalness in her tone. Why were people so damn friendly?

Her colleague nodded and turned for the door, probably off to rant off a series of facts that weren't even accurate. The idiot.

How he got into this collage as a professor was a mystery.

Collage. Rooms. Offices. Furniture.

Amazing how the human brain can trail off to unwanted thoughts…

Gladys shook her head. Ignore it. Ignore _him_. He's just an assistant. A _moron_.

By the time he got to the collage, class was almost ready to start. Gladys avoided contact with those pleading blue eyes, annoyed that they kept trying to have contact with hers.

Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

By the third class period, she remembered she needed to gather some supplies for an example experiment.

"Wheatley," she said cooly, surprised that she inadvertently used his first name, "Your assistance is needed."

Wheatley practically leapt out of his chair, trotting over to her like a child who's just seen an ice cream truck. Gladys entered the dark storage room of her own, flicking on the light exposing lab equipment of every kind- well at least the kind the board could afford. She picked up a tray and began to place beakers and test tubes on it, along with a few powdered chemicals from a glass cabinet. She then turned and handed the tray to her assistant.

"Take this to the table on the far side of the room; the one with the camera," she said plainly to him. Wheatley visually bit his lip a little before nodding and turning to leave.

Finally, Gladys sighed.

"Come here."

Wheatley turned back. "What?"

Gladys took the tray back from him and set it on a circular table next to them.

"I am not saying that Friday night did not mean anything," Gladys growled quietly, "I am saying that I wish to retain a degree of… agnositicity, if that is even a word. But in the sense of this situation- our relationship, not religion. Understand? So cease with the puppy dog looks and moping because if I see that you cannot separate your home life and career life, I might find the need to find a new assistant- and trust me there are plenty. So," she picked up the tray, almost shoving it into his chest, "take this to the far table, the one with the camera."

She huffed, folded her arms across her chest and walked out of the room, not bothering to hear or see a reaction from the moron.

She stopped at her desk to pointlessly straighten up some papers, her eyes drifting up to Wheatley carrying the tray to the far table. She tore her eyes from him and turned again, wishing for some form of distraction. When did class start? Almost eight minutes… No one in the room yet…

This is what made her OCD flare up- stress. The constant need to be busy when something she didn't want on her mind was on her mind. One of the huge reasons she became a professor- she was always busy. No room, no _need_ for any form of an actual social life- the main source of her stress… Gladys was never any good with people.

Science was her passion- people were irrelevant.

"So, I was wondering if we could grab a drink sometime," she heard her assistant's low voice from behind. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. "What the hell did I just s-"

"Agnosticity, yeah yeah," he smiled softly, "But… well I don't know.. we could see where this goes…"

He leaned into her not-so-subtly, Gladys stepped back an inch, her brows coming together, glaring. Wheatley blushed and smiled awkwardly, his attempt at slickness a failure. "Come on, luv-"

"Stop calling me that," she snapped, "'Love'. I am not your _luv_."

"Force of habit, _luv_," Wheatley mocked, grinning.

Gladys glared deeply and stepped closely to him. She stared at him, the idiosyncratic attraction she felt for him burning a hole in the back of her head. At that very moment, she wanted to kiss him and slap him at the same time, but the first student, a small boy with dark brown hair, opened the door and walked in to take a seat.

Gladys stepped back from Wheatley, brushing her hair behind an ear. "My house. Thursday, alright?" she said quietly, "I have a nice bottle of Merlot that has been lying around for a while. I will give you my address later. Now leave me alone."

Wheatley smiled. "Alright."

_#_

Tuesday and Wednesday came and went, following with the beginning of Thursday.

Wheatley came in early, with nothing better to do. He found Gladys sitting on the edge of her desk, reading over a few papers. Wheatley stretched his arms up above his head, casually walking over to her.

"Good morning," he mused.

"Morning," she replied, not looking up.

"…You look nice," the assistant drawled, running his eyes down her body. Black blazer, white silky-looking shirt, and a grey pencil skirt.

Gladys looked up.

"What do you want," she sighed.

"Huh?" Wheatley replied perkily, "Nothing. Anticipation, I suppose. For, you know."

Gladys stared at him blankly. "Tonight."

"Yes tonight," Wheatley grinned, "Your place."

Gladys rolled her eyes. "Could you not act like hormonally challenged animal for a few seconds? We are only getting together for a little while."

"Mmhm," Wheatley smirked.

"Yes…" Gladys glared and looked back down to the papers.

Wheatley placed a finger at the top of the papers in her hands, pressing them down a little. "You live south of here, right?"

"Aptur, I swear to God," she growled.

"Okay, okay," Wheatley mused, "Just checking." He stared at her for a second before giving into the urge to kiss her, leaning in, brushing his lips against hers. Gladys exhaled and glared at him before placing the papers she had to the side of her. "You," she hissed, reaching forward to grab the collar of his shirt, "are viciously annoying. You know that, right?"

"Um," Wheatley hesitated before Gladys pulled him forward into a lip locking kiss. She uncrossed her legs and he stepped closer, kissing her back slowly. Wheatley sheepishly placed a hand on Gladys' leg, itching up to the edge of her skirt. She responded by snaking her hand up and around the back of his neck, rubbing the nape with her thumb. He opened his mouth just wide enough for her to slide her tongue over his. Wheatley turned his head, deepening the kisses as they quickened…

After a few more kisses Wheatley remembered he had this annoying habit of needing to breathe.

He broke it off, quietly taking a breath and began to kiss a trail down his employer's jaw. She sighed and leaned to the side a little, allowing him to place open-mouthed kisses all over, only stopping to nibble her soft skin. He felt her rub her leg against his, encouraging him to press closer, which he gladly did, running his tongue over her throat. She leaned her head against his, exhaling into his ear making Wheatley wish they weren't in a classroom…

But suddenly Gladys shoved him away. He was confused for only a second, for Gladys quickly stood up and straightened her skirt. "Chell," she squeaked, "H-how long have you been there?"

Wheatley turned, promptly fixing his shirt and saw Chell sitting there, in her usual spot, a book in her hands, looking up to Gladys. She looked like she was saying something, and Wheatley _thought_ he heard her voice… But she was so damn quiet.

"Oh," Gladys said, she was blushing faintly under her almost-white skin, something Wheatley never thought was possible, "Well, I am sorry I was… unprofessional in front of you. This is a place of learning. I apologize."

Chell stared at her for a second, shrugged a response, and continued reading.

Gladys turned and glared at Wheatley.

Wheatley spread his arms a little. "What?"

"Ugh," Gladys said, rolling her amber eyes, and walked away.

"What!"

_#_

Gladys left the collage before Wheatley did, she demanded he sort out the mess of filing he'd done yesterday. He, trying to be flirtatious, said he was distracted. Wink. But she just glared and left him with the mess.

Best kinda-sorta-but-not-really girlfriend ever.

She told him to be at her house no earlier than seven that night, so it allowed him a little time to… spruce up.

"So, whatcha gunna wear for your 'date'?" Rick teased with air quotes.

"It's hardly a date, mate," Wheatley mused, digging through his sock drawer.

"Yeah," Rick said unenthusiastically, "That's why I had air quotes. Oh, and if you're looking for your 'secret' stash of condoms, I took them."

Wheatley stood up and turned to face his roommate. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Pfft," Rick chuckled, "'S not like you were getting laid anytime soon two months ago."

"I was wondering why you came tip toeing into my room that night…"

"You are so stupid."

"Shut up," Wheatley snapped, "Well, I don't want to get my boss bloody pregnant."

"As if bro," Rick smirked, "You couldn't get anyone pregnant even if you were trying. And in these early fuck-buddy stages, you don't want to ruin the moment by sayin 'whoops, better get a rubber'. That's lame."

Wheatley suddenly had the urge to facepalm. "Okay, whatever. But if she gets pregnant, you're taking care of the baby."

"Okie doke," Rick replied casually, "So, are you just gunna go shirtless, or what?"

Wheatley flipped him off before walking over to his closet and grabbing his favorite blue shirt. "This one, you idiot. What time is it?"

"Almost six-thirty."

Wheatley pulled on the shirt, quickly buttoning the black buttons and clapped his hands together. "Alriiiiight. This is gunna go smoothly. Just, fabulous. Right?"

Rick ceased picking at his teeth for a second and scoped his roommate. "Sure. As long as you aren't a dork. Which we all know is physically impossible. So…"

"Fuck you."


	4. True Lawve

Wheatley drove for what felt like forever thanks to several red lights. Maybe he shouldn't do this… not only is it kind of illegal, but it's basically frowned upon in society. Well, it's not like he's doing it to get to the top or whatever. He's doing it because…

Because why?

Wheatley almost crashed into another car when he looked away from the road to think. The car's horn blared and Wheatley swerved out of the way just in time.

Man, he was an awful driver.

Anywho, he was almost the Gladys' house, and he honestly couldn't think of a good, legit reason to _actually_ go besides the fact Gladys telling him to come at seven. Well that and…

Heh heh heh.

But were those the only reasons?

He slowed down when he realized he was in her neighborhood. He searched for her address on houses. Four-three-two-one…

Creative address.

Wheatley's apartment's address was three-eight-two-five north something-or-other; of which Rick cleverly pointed out were the numbers that spelled out "fuck" on a phone. Not one with a keyboard, but just a flip up phone with the letters under the numbers, he emphasized.

When his finally found the house, he wasn't really surprised it was Gladys'.

White house with a black roof and the windows had black panes. The door was even black accented with white along the trim of the panels.

"Shit, Gladys," Wheatley mumbled to himself.

He got second thoughts before knocking on the door. Even thoughts about running back to his car screaming like a little girl.

But all the faded to the back of his head when the door opened without him having to open it.

"You are two minutes late," Gladys mused, monotone.

Wheatley scratched his head. "Um, sorry, luv. I-"

"Get inside," she interrupted, "You are letting in a draft."

She opened the door wide enough to let her assistant in, and he followed suit, stepping over the threshold and looking around.

Just like her desk and her classroom, her house was spotless. The base color was obviously white, but there were other colors like brown, beige, light salmon, and teal. Everything was organized to a T. Right angles everywhere. Straight, clean, and precise.

Sheesh, she has free time.

Gladys closed the door behind him and stopped him before he could walk any further into the home. "Shoes."

Pfft. Of course.

Wheatley slipped off his converse and set them next to her several pairs of heels by the door. He tried to earn a few points with her and lined them up properly next to her shoes, but once he stood, Gladys promptly squatted down and moved them just slightly to make it straighter.

Then she stood and walked off as if she'd done nothing.

Wheatley swallowed and followed her, almost slipping on the smooth wood floor in his mismatched socks. He followed her into the ridiculously white kitchen where she retrieved a bottle of wine from a little wine cooler in the corner.

"1989?" she questioned.

"Oh, uh, heh sure. Fine with me," Wheatley responded awkwardly, "I'm not very good with wine so…"

Gladys rolled her eyes and walked around him back into the living room. He followed, again, and found her just as she was sitting down on a beige leather couch. He walked over in front of her.

She patted the seat next to her and he sat down next to her. She handed him an expensive-looking wine glass and poured the maroon-colored wine into the glass.

She did the same for herself, crossed her legs, and stared at Wheatley.

…

"…So.." Wheatley mused, "Come here often? Heh, heh."

Gladys narrowed her eyes and looked away from him, sipping the wine. "And just when I thought there was a little intelligence…"

"Hey, you invited me over," Wheatley snapped back, taking a drink from the wine. Whoa, that's good. He took another sip.

Gladys nodded slightly, "I did, I did. But you suggested. So, any topic worth discussing with you?"

Wheatley hesitated. "Um. Tell me about yourself…?"

"Such as…?"

"Uh…" Wheatley trailed off and took another drink before saying, "Collage?"

"I studied at MIT and received my Ph.D…" Gladys returned almost mechanically, "I would like to teach there one day… MIT…"

"You like to teach?"

"Spreading knowledge is one of my few passions," Gladys responded, before taking a drink from her glass, "So the world will not be full of morons for the next generations," she looked over to him and smirked, "Like you."

"Oh, gee, thanks," Wheatley said with a smile and a roll of his eyes.

"What about you."

"Oh, collage?" Wheatley chuckled, "That was a fun time. Heh. Went to some community college in Oregon for a while before I decided to get my act together. I would like to teach… but I just don't think I have the prowess for it."

Gladys snorted in mid-sip and started coughing.

"Oh, geeze are you okay?" Wheatley asked, taking her glass from her as she continued to cough. Once the coughing died down, it seemed to transfer into… laughing? Was she actually laughing?

"Oh my god, it's a miracle! Gladys Apenor is _laughing_!" Wheatley gasped sarcastically.

Gladys' laughing died down and she straightened herself out a bit. "Sorry. It is.. it's just the thought of you being a teacher… _lord_." She chuckled to herself.

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "I think you've had too much."

"Oh, _please_," Gladys retorted, "I've barley touched my glass. Now _you _on the other hand-"

"Whatever," he responded, grinning, handing her glass back.

Over the course of about forty minutes, the two managed to go through almost the whole bottle of wine, just talking about their lives, comparing the intelligent to the unintelligent. Wheatley managed to get her laughing once more, and after that she was smiling a lot more…

So, a drunk GLaDOS- er, Gladys, equals a happy one. Making a mental note…

"And then he _dared_ to come up to the board and try and _fix_ the equation," Gladys gasped.

Wheatley, with no knowledge on the type of math she was talking about, smiled and asked, "What did he do?"

"He replaced my variable, insisting it had been found three steps back, _and_, oh _god_," she started cracking up, "He flipped my trinomial, turning it into what looked like a child between a formula for a torus and some general distance formula from my seventh grade year in middle school."

"No way." Clueless.

"_Way_," Gladys grinned, "Now let me tell you about quantum mechanics-"

"Ieeee… thing that's enough math for tonight," Wheatley mused, nervous of another advanced calculus story.

"But math is so fuuuuuuuun," Gladys whined.

Gladys obviously didn't get drunk often. But, he and Rick made frequent trips to the local bar, and always had a six-pack handy. So half a bottle of wine had a minimal effect on him..

Slightly disappointing.

"Sooooo…. fun.." Gladys drifted off to herself, before falling over into Wheatley's chest, "When did it get suhdark? I need to go tabed."

Wheatley chuckled. _Slurring. Adorable._

She didn't move, however. She instead snuggled her assistants neck and sighed. "God, my head usspinning," she mumbled into his shirt, "Thus is why I dunt drink," she looked up to Wheatley, "_you_ on the other hand, sum onfassed."

Onfassed. Unfazed? _She's trying so hard to put words together._

"Oh, I remember," Gladys said when Wheatley didn't reply. Then she kissed him. Wheatley was sort-of-expecting it, sort-of-not-expecting it. He hesitated, trying to adjust his position, and kissed her back tentatively. Gladys was in no rush, apparently, for she moved her lips slowly against his, not even bothering to open her mouth or even turn her head. Wheatley went along with her, sheepishly moving his hand to her hip. She moved closer in response, raising her hand up his chest and around his neck. _Then_ she turned her head, locking lips with her employee. Wheatley suppressed a smile and pressed closer, wanting more from her…

She pulled away and gave him a half-closed-eye look that whispered _follow me_. She got up off the couch and half stumbled into standing, followed by walking around a corner. With his mind a little slower than normal, it took a moment for him to comprehend that he needed to follow his intoxicated employer. He stood easily and peeked around the corner, no Gladys to be found. He stepped out into the white hallway, glancing at the walls. Several certificates, mostly collage oriented. Wheatley half-expected to find the nobel peace prize down here. He lazily walked down the hall, looking in open doors, not daring to open the closed ones. He reached the end of the hall in a few steps, coming to stop at what looked like a linen closet. Wheatley looked over to an open room. Looking in the dark room, he saw what appeared to be the outline of a bed…

Bingo.

"Luv?" Wheatley asked, stepping in, "You in here?"

"Yes, _lawve_," Gladys practically giggled, "Foreign people…"

Wheatley looked up to see her sitting on her bed. "Nice house, I forgot to mention that before." He walked over to her, sitting on the bed next to her.

"Mm," she mused, "Amazung what smarts buy you."

Wheatley grinned at her, leaning in to kiss her. Gladys met him half way, pressing her lips softly against his. Wheatley pressed closer, but Gladys pressed back, moving her hand up to his chest, pushing him down onto his back. Wheatley leaned back, comforted by the fluffy sheets around them. He scooted back a bit so they weren't right on the edge of the bed, and Gladys proceeded to straddle him. She brushed her hair behind her ear before leaning down and pecking Wheatley's lips. She then turned her head, touching her tongue to his lips.

_Finally_ Wheatley groaned to himself and quickly opened for her.

She tasted like wine. In the process of playing tongue twister with his boss, he managed to sneak a hand under her shirt, the other pleasantly resting on her thigh. She sighed into his mouth, and raised her head. She kissed him lightly before rolling over off him, onto her back where she promptly began to undo her white blouse…

Wheatley sat up and combed his hair out of his face with his fingers. He hoped in the dark would shield his nervous stature. He moved so he was on his knees, sitting next to Gladys. She slipped out of her shirt and dropped it onto the floor next to them.

"Your turn," she purred.

Wheatley swallowed and began undoing his shirt, slipping it off and tossing it aside along with Gladys' top. She smiled faintly and began to slip off her skirt. Wheatley followed suit and pulled off his grey jeans. Once they were down to only undergarments, Wheatley leaned down to her, gently pressing his lips to hers, kissing her leisurely, praying she couldn't hear his heart beating a million miles an hour. She raised her hands, entangling them in his hair, encouraging him to come closer. He gladly complied and sheepishly moved over her, inserting a leg in between hers. Gladys exhaled quietly and pressed her tongue into Wheatley's mouth. He kissed her back hungrily, resting his forearm next to her head. He broke it off to breathe and pecked the corner of her mouth, moving down her jaw, to her neck. Wheatley thought he felt goose bumps at one point. She sighed more audibly, raising her leg to rub against his.

_Likes to be kissed on the neck- another mental note._

Wheatley promptly opened his mouth to run his tongue over her skin, kissing just under her jaw. After a few kisses he lifted his head, switching to the other side of her neck. Gladys turned her head more than willingly and Wheatley began placing open-mouthed kisses all over her throat, listening to her heated breathes. She suddenly moved her hips, rubbing her crotch against his leg. This provoked him to be a tease and rub back with his leg lightly. Gladys, immediately picking up on his antics, cleared her throat and raised her arms above her head. Wheatley lifted his head and smirked down at her, a boost of confidence at being on top.

Gladys simply rolled her eyes.

Wheatley leaned back down, kissing her deeply before kissing a trail back down her neck to her chest. He felt just daring at this point and ran his tongue over the upper part of her left breast, most still covered by the black bra. Gladys suddenly sat up slightly on her elbows. Wheatley saw what she was getting at and reached around her warm back, unclasping the back of her bra. She slipped it off in a second and laid back down. Wheatley hesitated and simply went back to her lips for a second, before heading back to her chest, kissing the side of her right breast. Her whole abdomen to flawless, except for a mole down by her hip, near the black underwear she still wore. Gladys smiled and reached down to pull down those lacy panties; Wheatley sat up slightly.

"Uh," he stammered.

The thought crossed his mind of going down on her, but honestly it didn't sound all that appealing…

She just rolled her eyes for the third time that evening, and mused, "Lose the boxers, moron."

"Oh." He did as he was told and awkwardly pulled off the last of his clothing. He moved up over her again, face to face. "Sorry, I just, uh, I dunno. Ick. You know?"

Gladys just grabbed his hair, pushing his face close to hers so she could kiss him slowly, moving her tongue in and out of his mouth. Wheatley kissed her back and took this as a _go_ and inelegantly pressed inside her.

Gladys gasped into his mouth, and bit his lip.

_Ow._

"Fuck," she growled, "Alright then."

Wheatley pressed close to her, nuzzling into her neck, finding a comfortable spot before beginning to move in and out of her. Gladys moaned softly into his ear, tightening her grip on his hair. Her other hand was above her, gripping the corner of the mattress. He began to move faster, hearing his own moans muffled into a pillow. He picked up, creating more friction…

Gladys came first this time, exhaling loudly into Wheatley's ear, sending him over the edge, releasing into her and rolling over next to her on the bed.

They laid there, breathing hard for a few seconds.

"Damn," Gladys breathed.

"Better than last time?" Wheatley asked with a weak smile.

"Yes," she replied, moving to lay on her side, facing Wheatley.

Wheatley limply raised his arm, tiredly punched the air and flopped his arm down next to him. "Score."

"Tch," Gladys smiled faintly, "You're so odd."

He looked over to her and smiled, "I'm odd? You live in a house where I'm afraid if I touch anything, it'll burst into flames."

"It's called organization."

"It's called severe OCD," Wheatley chuckled and rolled over on his side to face her. And quickly, before she got a chance to reply, he leaned forward and pecked her lips. "But that's just one of the things I find interesting about you."

Gladys looked away and smiled tentatively. "I'm actually very boring."

"Somehow I doubt that…" Wheatley grinned and scooted closer to her. Gladys hesitated and leaned in to kiss him. He kissed her back promptly, locking lips with her again and again..

Ah, pillow talk.

She pulled away and gave him a sly smile.

"Want to go again?"

Wheatley returned her smile.


	5. Cassidy and Chase

Gladys woke up with a naked moron spooning against her back.

Her alarm next to her bed had gone off at its usual time, five-thirty a.m. The moron groaned and rolled over, obviously annoyed at the repetitive beeping. "Turn it off, will you?" he whined.

Gladys rolled her eyes and sat up, a headache washing down on her as she did so. Suddenly, the beeping was obnoxious rather than comforting, like it usually is.

She leaned over and shut off the alarm and brushed stray hairs out of her eyes. She looked over to see Wheatley in a tangle of sheets, his face buried in one of her pillows. She rolled her eyes and pulled sheets off herself. "I am going to take a shower," she stated plainly and stood, walking naked down to her bathroom. Hey. It was her house, after all.

Her head ache only became worse at the sounds of pulling the curtain back, the thumping of the pipes in the wall pumping hot water to the small room… Ugh… This is why she doesn't drink. The consequences aren't worth it, not to mention she turns into some ditsy blabbering idiot. Like _him_.

Memories from the night before washed over her like the steaming water.

Gladys sighed and rubbed her eyes, her face, her shoulders…

What the hell was she even doing? This moron's going to ruin her career. Pull her from the top down to his _bachelor_ _degree_ level. Why was she so drawn to him? It didn't make sense. Maybe she should start seeing that therapist again…

Gladys heard the door open and immediately knew it was him.

"A shower, eh?" he mused with that stupid accent, "Mind if I, um, heh- mind if I join you, luv?"

"I told you to stop calling me that," Gladys growled in return, picking up her shampoo.

"Is that a yes?"

Gladys glared into space. "Whatever." She squirted some shampoo into her hand and began messaging her scalp as her assistant climbed into the shower with her. He closed the curtain and stood close behind her. "So," he said into her ear, "How are you?"

"I have a vicious headache which just got worse upon your entering," Gladys snapped, trying not to blush with her naked-ness in full light.

"Oh, thanks," Wheatley replied, placing his hands on her hips, "Do you get up this early every day?"

"Yes, why?" Gladys returned, moving her hips, trying to shrug him off her. She stepped into the stream of water and scrubbed the shampoo out of her short hair.

"Oh, I was just asking," he sheepishly replied, "I just normally get up at like six-thirty."

"Well, you are not a woman, are you?" Gladys hissed, grabbing her conditioner.

"Hah, that makes sense."

"I also like to make trips to starbucks every morning, I always account for traffic and like to leave a little down time when I actually get to the collage."

"Maybe, you should take the day off?" Wheatley said softly, leaning into her neck. Gladys shrugged him away again. "Do not be _stupid_," she spat, squirting conditioner into her hand, "I cannot just all-of-the-sudden take a day off. I do not have a sub, nor have I notified anyone-"

"Call in sick," Wheatley suggested.

"And you would be _conveniently _out of the office as well?"

"Sure."

"You are such a moron."

"Come _on_," Wheatley sighed into her ear. Gladys brushed him away and began scrubbing the conditioner through her hair, "And I am trying to take a shower in case you have not noticed."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"So back off."

"Not until you call in sick for both of us."

Gladys narrowed her eyes at the wall as she continued washing her hair. A moment of silence came over them. Wheatley stepped a little closer to her, Gladys' hand brushing his cheek.

"Tch," she mused and stepped under the water, washing the product out.

"Come on," Wheatley whined, "It'll be fun."

"_Fun_," Gladys growled, spitting out water that accidentally flowed into her mouth and shoved Wheatley back a step, out of the stream, "Your idea of fun and my idea of fun are two very different funs."

"Do you even have fun?"

"Skrew you," Gladys snapped, "I enjoy spending my time with the advances of science. I will not demean myself to… whatever it is _you_ do," she picked up her yellow loofah and her body wash, "While you are in here, and annoying me, I might add," she squirted the lemon-scented body wash onto the loofah and handed it to Wheatley, "make yourself useful and get my back."

"Oh, uh, alright," Wheatley replied. He placed the loofah on her back, beginning to scrub her shoulders. She stood there, feeling him wash her back. She closed her eyes and slouched a bit, arching her back a little as his hand fell to her lower back. He came closer again, his free hand coming to rest on her hip. Then she felt his lips at her neck.

_God damnit, Wheatley_.

She wanted to smack him… But she couldn't. He was just so… _Wheatley_.

She rolled her neck to the side a little, providing better access. He kissed and licked the droplets of water off her neck; he ran his upper row of teeth over her skin at one point, sending shivers down her spine..

Gladys reached behind herself, up over and around Wheatley's head, turning herself towards him.

"I hate you," Gladys growled to him. She only caught a glimpse of a smile from him before pressing her lips against his. He had this particular taste that was just so alluring to Gladys, in a way that annoyed her beyond belief. And as she felt his hand raise to cup her face, she wondered why she even bothered to wonder why she was doing this with him.. What even was this? Illegal, sort of, for one, and just plain out of character for her. He was going to ruin her.

And she loved it.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he turned his head, sweeping his tongue over hers, pulling back for a second to peck her lips before kissing her deeply again. _God_.

They continued this for a few seconds before the sound of a doorbell pulled them apart.

"Who rings a doorbell at six in the morning?" Wheatley hissed, still close to his boss.

Gladys cleared her throat. "I do not know. I will check. But you stay here," she stepped back and turned off the water.

"Hey!"

"Shh!" Gladys snapped, "Grab a towel or something you baby," she pulled back the curtain and stepped out, "Shut up for once in your life, hm? I do not want whoever it is knowing you are here."

Wheatley smiled. "Ooh, scandal. So, I'm a secret?"

Gladys glared. "Shut up," she snatched her white robe from the door handle, slipped it on and walked into the hallway, quickly shutting the bathroom door after her. She walked down the long hallway to her front door, brushing her wet hair out of her face.

She opened the door, a rush of cool morning air rushed in.

"Hello!" said a tall man with cerulean eyes and short choppy pale blonde hair, "You're Gladys, right? I'm your neighbor from down the street-"

"OOH! What's that?"

Gladys raised an eyebrow and promptly looked down to see two children, both with bright orange hair with deep amber eyes. One boy, one girl.

"Cassidy, stop it," the cerulean man said, and looked back to Gladys, "Sorry, I was wondering if you knew any nearby sitters or… I just have to leave today and I don't know anyone.. I'm new to the neighborhood.. I'm a baker and I just need to go for a day, just for a day, but these numb-skulls have the day off."

Gladys grimaced. She hated children. A lot. "You did not plan ahead?"

"My original sitter canceled on me.."

Gladys glanced down at the children. The girl had her longer orange hair tied to the side of her head, her eyes wide with wonder- or curiosity. The boy was relatively quiet, but still looking around.

"But I need to leave, like, right now…" he sighed.

Gladys wrinkled her nose. "I am sorry but-"

"GAH!"

Gladys ground her teeth together. The two kids looked behind Gladys. She turned to see Wheatley in a towel against the left wall of her halway, across from her bathroom door.

Gladys quickly looked back to the cerulean man who looked back at her. Gladys in a robe, obviously from the shower, strange man in a towel burst out of the bathroom…

He smiled nervously. "Oh, uh, if I'm interrupting something-"

Gladys glared at the man. "What is your name?"

"Cale Kora," he said quickly.

"Spider!" Wheatley gasped, "There is a _HUGE _spider! IN THERE!"

Gladys turned and snarled back at him, "I thought I told you to shut up."

"Spiders!" Cassidy gasped, "Spiders are so cool!"

"Cassidy," Cale patted her shoulder, "It's alright, I can go find-"

"I will find a sitter for them," Gladys snapped.

"Are you sure?" Cale said sheepishly, "I mean, if you don't have any space for them-"

"Did you say space?" the little boy inhaled, finally piping up.

"Chase," Cale hissed.

"But space-!"

"OH MY GOD IT'S CRAWLING OUT THE DOOR!"

Gladys grabbed the two children's arms, yanking them inside. "It is alright. I will find a sitter. Perhaps they could stay here. Alright? Just come get them when you are done with your trip."

"Thank you so much," Cale sighed, "You have no idea-"

And she slammed the door in his face. "APTUR."

Wheatley looked over to Gladys. "Oh, hey, you have kids."

"Hi!" Cassidy beamed, "Where's the spider?"

"We should send it to space!" Chase gasped.

Gladys literally felt her eye twitch.

Well there goes her se- er, sick day.

_#_

Gladys called into the collage, apologizing thoroughly saying she had a family emergency to take care of and that Wheatley was also sick. However, Gladys was always prepared. She had another substitute on speed dial, Moraiah Sorre. The woman was unusually kind… full of her own little morals. Religious. But she was well read up on science. Odd.

So of course she was happy to help.

She could _really_ use her help _here._ After getting dressed along with Wheatley, she had another thing in mind when she sat the two kids on the couch.

"Do not touch anything, do not look at anything. Do not even _breathe_ on anything, understand? I do _not_ want your… _abhorrent_ _bawdiness_ gallivanting around this edifice."

"…What?" Cassidy peeped, her eyes now wide with confusion.

"Yeah, I didn't even catch that, luv," Wheatley chuckled, standing off to the side.

Gladys rubbed her temple. "Just. Stay. Put. Alright?" she turned to her employee, "And you, come with me."

"Can do," Wheatley mused and followed Gladys down the hallway into her bedroom. Gladys shut the door, turned to her employee and scowled. "What the hell were you thinking? You leap out of the bathroom screaming like a little girl when I _specifically_ told you not to _speak._"

"That spider was huge!"

"Shh!" Gladys snapped, "And it was not! It was the side of a half dollar. You could have squished it with some toilet paper or something!"

"Well excuse me," he taunted with a grin, "Most of us can't be heartless bug killers like you."

"Mmhm," Gladys sighed, "So it is now put upon your shoulders to find a place for these kids."

"What!"

"You heard me," she mused back, "You are my assistant after all."

"I just-" Wheatley protested before lowering his voice, "I just had sex with you in your own home. Twice. Don't you think I'm entitled to something more than an assistant?"

Gladys hesitated. What was he to her? More than an assistant obviously. But could they be considered… boyfriend-girlfriend? The thought made her cringe.

"I'm taking your grimace as a no," Wheatley sighed, the light leaving his eyes. He turned to go.

"Ap-" she caught herself, "Wheatley, wait." She brushed still damp hair out of her eyes.

"What?"

"You are more than an assistant," Gladys said sheepishly, "But… Honestly I do not know what to call you, alright?"

Pause.

Wheatley scratched his head. "How about we take a break from anything touchy. To figure things out with _us_."

"No sex."

"Nope."

"Anything touchy? Even kissing?"

Wheatley hesitated. "Uh, yeah. For like… two weeks."

Gladys glared. "You won't be able to make it."

"Like hell I won't be able to make it," Wheatley smiled, "Wait, did this become a bet?"

Gladys folded her arms. "It is a deal. First to cave has to do the other one's paperwork for two weeks." Gladys didn't have much to lose, almost her entire life has been behind a computer screen or writing for hours on end cooped up in her office.

"Fine," her assistant nodded, "We can go to dinner or something!" his smile got brighter, "There is this movie I've been dying to see…" As he blabbered on, Gladys couldn't help but find him… cute. Like a child excited to go and see his favorite super hero. Those big blue eyes, that smile, light chocolate hair…

"Luv," Wheatley chuckled, "Are you blushing?"

Gladys snapped out of her trance and finally realized the heat on her face. Fuck.

"What? No," Gladys shook her head, "You're a moron."

"And that's another thing!" Wheatley snapped with a half smile, "I am not a moron! I'm the smartest guy I know!"

Gladys swallowed a laugh. "Sure, whatever. Moron."

Wheatley sighed.

"So there, it is a deal. Happy?"

"Simply giddy," Wheatley smiled at her, or rather, kept smiling, "Would you like to kiss on it? Seal the deal?"

Gladys narrowed her eyes. "Fine."

They leaned into each other, and Gladys even let her eyes shut. But then she heard something so awful, so sickeningly terrible, her entire body shivered and she felt a wave of a mixture of anger and nausea sweep over her.

Children's laughter.

"Oohh," Gladys growled, stepping back and walking around a confused Wheatley into the hallway. She looked down to see the two red-headed children at the end of the hall, who had just finished throwing coasters at each other.

"I thought," she walked down the hall, heel-toe-heel-toe, practically stomping, "I told you two to _stay put._"

Cassidy froze, as did Chase. "We're sorry," Cassidy peeped, "I just got curious of the things-"

"You are not _allowed_ to be curious."

The two kids shank like two kittens being barked at by a very intimidating rot wilier.

"Glaaaaaaaadys…!" Wheatley came prancing down the hall, coming in-between the rot wilier and the kittens, "They were just playing, luv. It's fine, I know a place where we can take them, alright?"

Gladys looked up to Wheatley, scowled and turned and walked back down the hall.

Wherever he was to take them, it better be far away from her.

After a few minutes, Wheatley sought her out again, finding her in her room, sitting on her bed.

"Sheesh, you looked like you were about to kill those two."

"I thought about it."

He came over and sat next to his boss. "So, I'll drive them down to the care center in a bit. But…"

Gladys rolled her eyes, ignoring the tiny butterflies in her stomach. "Come here."

And when her lips touched his, she mentally rolled her eyes.

_I am definitely going to lose this_.


	6. Texting a Mute

"Oh, come on," Wheatley growled, digging the key into this locked apartment door. After the third failed attempt, he called out, "Bloody hell, Rick! Why isn't my key working?" When he got no answer, facepalmed and banged on the door. "Rick! I swear to god you asshole! Open the door!"

He leaned up against the door and listened. He heard quick footsteps and giggling. A woman's giggle. No, two woman. Giggling.

Wheatley sighed. Of course. They had an argument about bringing strange women home since the last time Rick brought a stripper home. She stole all the cash in _both_ their wallets (Wheatley thought he heard someone sneak into his room that night…) and their blue ray player. Wheatley got super pissed and confronted Rick about it, argument, and now they have to run women past each other before bringing anyone over.

Not that Wheatley (before Gladys came into the picture) had anyone to run by Rick.

But now his stupid adventure-junkie roommate has crossed the line.

"Rick!" Wheatley snapped, pounding on the door, "Open the damned door or I swear to god I will call your crazy ex-girlfriend! The blonde on with the lazy eye-"

The door opened. "Blimey!" Rick gasped in a way-too-stereotypical-accent, "Wots all this then? Oh! It's my stupid roommate, who, if he doesn't shut his trap, will," he dropped the accent along with the tone of his voice, "get it shut for him. You texted me saying you'd be home like tonight. Why are you here?"

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "We had kids." He pushed past Rick and into the main room which appeared to be trashed. "Shit! What the hell Rick! It looks like a bloody herd of guidos came thrashing about through here," he turned back to Rick, "And I heard girls! Where are they?"

Rick grinned. "Your room, I think."

Wheatley shook his head. "Why?"

He shrugged. "First place I could think to shove them- Ha! That's ironic considering last night."

"Oh, yeah, that's just brilliant," Wheatley mused, "So are they hookers or something?"

"Nah, man," Rick brushed off, "Met them at the bar."

"So two drunk girls, brought them home, had vicious sex all over the apartment and passed out in my room."

Rick shrugged. "It was actually the bathroom because one of them had to vomit before she deep throated."

Wheatley felt a blush coming on and turned away. "You are unbelievable."

"What? Your night wasn't good?"

Wheatley smiled and turned back to him. "My night was downright _smashing_, not to be a stereotype like you were earlier."

"Ooh, _smashing_," Rick sauntered over, "What happened?"

"Unlike you," Wheatley glared, "I don't like broadcasting my… affinities with women."

"If you don't talk, I will…"

"Rick, I swear to god-"

"So," Rick began, "Ever heard of the spread eagle?"

"WINE," Wheatley gasped, "Wine was involved! Alright? She got a little tipsy while I… was pretty much sober."

"Is she a fun drunk?"

Wheatley let the memories flood back, along with the warming of his face. "Sure…"

Rick grinned. "God, you are such a nerd."

"Oh, sod you," he turned to head for his room, "Get these two out of the house! It's almost 11."

"If you say so…" his roommate mused before calling out, "Girls? Come and get your stuff, I can give you a ride!" Suddenly Wheatley's door opened and two almost naked girls with caramel skin and dark brown hair came trotting out. They smiled at Wheatley and pranced down the hall to pick up their clothes from the floor.

To avoid drifting eyes, Wheatley quickly stepped into his room which now smelled faintly of perfume and ass. Fabulous.

He collapsed onto his bed trying not to listen to the giggling of stupid hookers in his living room. Instead he tried to focus on the things he would do with Gladys… He thought he had some money saved up somewhere to take her out to a restaurant of her standards. Maybe tomorrow night? Saturday nights were always date nights…

Ah, an actual date with Gladys Apenor.

…Oh, god. A date with Gladys Apenor.

What the hell are they going to talk about? Work? No that's lame. Everything up till this point has been physical… What if she didn't like him in any other way than that? No… he knew he saw a softer side of her…

"_It's called organization."_

"_It's called severe OCD. But that's just one of the things I find interesting about you."_

"_I'm actually very boring."_

"_Somehow I doubt that."_

That little smile she got was priceless. He needed to coax more of that out of her. Through classic _roman d'amour_. She seemed like the kind of woman who would appreciate that, right? Now, how to accomplish this. Comb his hair? Nah, she seems to like to run his fingers though it a lot and gel with ruin it. A tie. Sure, why not. She's in formal-looking attire all the time. Scent? Huh. He never bothered to ask her if she liked the way he smelled. Heh. That's a conversation starter.

_So, luv. On a scale of one to ten, how do I smell? One being old bollocks and ten being _not_ old bollocks._

Brilliant.

Hm. Gifts? Flowers maybe. Did she have a favorite flower? Or scent? God, he needed to know these things. Does she have a close friend? The only person who came to mind was…

Chell.

Perhaps that quiet girl with the brown hair knew.

Monday morning, he would follow her out. She already knew about them anyway… What with the whole desk situation…

So it was decided. He'd try and talk to Chell.

Hopefully she would actually talk to _him_.

_#_

Wheatley walked into the collage early Monday morning, yawning and wondering why he didn't get quadruple shot on his mocha instead of a triple. Walking down the long hallway he nodded to a tall man with purple eyes.

Probably gay.

Gay guys were into flaring out their eyes, right?

The only time Wheatley wore colored contacts, it was for a play back in senior year of highschool. He was a monster or something.

…Man his mind wandered quickly.

Anywho, Gladys' room was the second to last room at the end of the hallway. He walked in, yawning for the fiftieth time that morning, and heard music. Music coming from her office.

"Gladys?" he called, setting his coffee down on her desk. The music was slow, it sounded like violin. Or viola. Plus a whole orchestra… Bah, he wasn't ever good with instruments. And then he heard singing. Good singing. Beautiful singing, in fact.

He opened her office door quietly, hoping he wasn't disturbing anything. "Gla-"

"_Sous le dôme épais. Où le blanc jasmin. À la rose s'assemble. Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin. Viens, descendons ensemble_."

Gladys sang to herself accompanied by the light orchestra in the background being pumped throughout the room via speakers on either side of her desk. Wheatley stood there and listened to her, a small smile drawing up on his lips. Gladys could sing. Who knew.

It wasn't his type of music (he preferred Irish rock, frankly) but her voice was amazing.

She finally looked up from the filing cabinet she stood next to, sliding the cabinet back, and froze in mid word-he-didn't-understand. "Wheatley." The music carried on without her.

Wheatley grinned. "I didn't know you could sing, luv."

Gladys brushed hair behind her ear. "How long were you standing there?"

"Pfft," Wheatley shrugged and walked into the room, "I don't' know; a minute? You're amazing."

Gladys nodded. "Thank you." She reached over and pulled her iPod from the dock on her desk, halting the music.

"What were you singing?"

She rolled her eyes. "You would not know it."

"Humor me."

"Delibes: Lakmé by Léo Delibes," Gladys sighed, "It is… one of my personal favorites."

"Sounded French."

"That is because it _is_ French," she mused coldly, "Now get out of my office." She gathered a few things of hers and walked out, Wheatley following right after her.

"So," Wheatley drawled, "How are you this morning?"

Gladys fixed the cuffs of her shirt and shrugged. "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Mm."

"…Any weird dreams?" Wheatley smiled, "Because I had the weirdest one about cake-"

"As captivatingly entertaining as that sounds, Wheatley," Gladys sighed, cocking an eyebrow, "I have things to do."

Wheatley nodded solemnly and backed off. Wow, he needed better conversation starters. Maybe she was just moody. But then again, when wasn't she moody. He needed to find some… higher level things to talk about. Politics? No, he was a democrat and by the looks of her, she looked like a republican. Would not end well.

Maybe world events. _So, how 'bout that economy. Heh, heh._

No.

Wheatley scratched his head and turned to see Chell sitting there, reading as usual. Quiet as ever. When Gladys turned away he trotted off to her, kneeling down in front of her at the desk.

"Psst."

She looked up, her expression turning from relaxed to _What?_

He quickly looked back to Gladys, still busy, and back to Chell. "Can I talk to you after class really quick?"

Chell thought for a second and shrugged. _Sure._

"Great," Wheatley sighed.

Then she gave him a narrowed eye look, as if to say, _What's it about?_

"Oh, uh," Wheatley smiled, "Um, Your teacher, actually. I'll explain later."

Chell nodded slightly and leaned back in her chair again, continuing to read.

When Wheatley stood again, he turned back to Gladys who was looking at him suspiciously. He shrugged at her. She rolled her eyes and continued her work.

Mwah hahahaha. Plan learn-deeper-things-about-Gladys-so-Wheatley-is-not-a-complete-failure-at-everything is a go.

_#_

Class went by normally, Gladys going on about quantum what-nots for an hour and a half. And when it ended she went straight to her office for reasons unknown.

Wheatley swiftly took advantage of this and practically pranced over to Chell who was almost out of the room. He followed her out.

"Hi! Okay, so-"

"Shhh!" some other professor snapped, and pointed to a sign on the wall.

AP-TESTING IN PROGRESS. NO TALKING.

Wheatley mouthed an _oh_ and nodded.

Chell promptly whipped out her phone and began texting. It was practically silent in the hall. _Wow. None of this ever went on at any collage I went to._ _…And now I feel stupid._

Chell handed her phone to Wheatley who took it and read the message.

_So, whats up?_

Wheatley nodded to her and texted back, on the next line.

_Okay, so you've know Gladys longer than I have, right?_

He handed it back, she read and responded.

_Almost three years, why?_

_Well I was wondering how well you know her. Are you friends?_

Chell looked up to Wheatley with a _really? _expression on her face.

Wheatley snatched the phone back. _Not like that, I mean do you know stuff about her._

He handed it back and Chell smiled a little. _Like favorite bands, stuff like that?_

_Yeah._

Chell looked down at her watch and reached around her, to her back, pulling a black pen out of her bag. She grabbed Wheatley's hand and scribbled down a few digits on his arm. She then began writing and then handed the phone to him.

_You have a phone, right? Just text me. I have to go to my next class._

Wheatley nodded to her and she smiled at him before walking off.

He walked back into the classroom to find Gladys shuffling through papers, as always. But before he could say anything, she mused coldly at him. "Why were you talking to my student?"

Wheatley hesitated. "Uh, just… school stuff. You were going on about quantum stuff and I was just, um, asking… a question."

Gladys glared. "Uh-huh."

"What!"

"Nothing."

Wheatley returned her glare and turned away. He then bit his lip and walked off to do nothing of any sort of importance. At the end of the day, when all of Gladys' students were leaving, Wheatley pulled out his phone. Pulling up his sleeve, he typed in Chell's number, adding her into his contacts before finally giving her a text.

_Hello! This is Wheatley._

He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and looked around for Gladys. He would ask her to dinner for Saturday to the classiest restaurant he could find, and then woo her with his vast intellect of… her. Yeah.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out.

_Hi there. So what did u want to talk about?_

Wheatley smiled and replied. _Ah, yes. Well in short terms, Gladys._

"Wheatley, come here."

He looked around, only to find no Gladys.

"Office, moron."

Oh. Wheatley trotted off to her office. She stood next to a filing cabinet. "Where did you put those papers I told you to print off for me?"

"…Papers?"

Gladys sighed. "Never mind, I'll get them." She huffed and walked over to her computer, plopping down in the large black chair.

Wheatley scratched his head. "I'm sorry, I must've spaced or something…"

"Do not mention _space_ in front of me, Wheatley."

Wheatley smiled. Right, the kids. Ah, good times. "So, I was wondering-" the buzzing in his pocket cut him off. "-eh, one moment." He pulled out his phone.

_What about her?_

Wheatley paused for a moment before typing. _Just, things about her. You've known her longer than I have haha_

"Who are you texting?" Gladys asked, nonchalantly.

Wheatley put away his phone. "Uh, no one, just a friend. Um, where was I?"

"You were wondering."

"Right!" Wheatley cleared his throat and continued. "So, I was wondering if you would join me for a date this Saturday evening."

Gladys smirked. "Oh?"

"Yeah!" Wheatley cheered, but caught himself, "I mean, uh, yes. Heh. Any place that you like? I mean, if you have one. I just never see you eat and-"

"I am a fan of Italian," Gladys mused, full lips drawing back, forming an almost sinister looking smile.

"Great! I know a place then." His phone buzzed again.

"Great."

Wheatley smiled brightly at her. "Well I'll be off then."

"Goodbye, Wheatley," Gladys drawled like the robot she was deep down.

The assistant nodded in reply and walked out of the office. In the hall, he pulled out his phone again.

_Lol is this about when I caught you munching on her neck._

Wheatley blushed and looked around to make sure no one could see him do such. He smiled to himself and replied. _Heh. No. Well, kinda. Sorry about that, by the way._

Half way out to his car, Chell replied. _Ah, its fine. It's not like im your mom or anything. _

Huh. This girl was pretty cool. _Hah. Thanks._

On the way home, she replied, but Wheatley really didn't feel like being pulled over that night so he waited till he got home and stretched out on his couch.

_So anyway, Gladys._

Wheatley texted back. _Right. So, do you know stuff about her? Like, favorite things?_

A minute passed before she answered. _Pfft. Besides science?_

_ Yes, besides science._

_ Trying to get the inside scoop, are we? _Wheatley chuckled at her reply.

"Who ya textin'?" Rick mused, walking down the hall.

Wheatley brushed hair out of his eyes. "Ah, just a friend."

"Bro, as far as I know, _I'm_ your only friend."

"Ouch."

"Truth hurts."

"Right."

"But seriously, who are you texting?"

"A friend!"

"It's a girl, isn't it."

"Ugh." He texted her back. _You could say that. So, I don't know. Favorite flower? Movie? Throw me a bone._

"So, has another apple caught your eye?"

"Shut up, mate."

Rick whistled nonchalantly and went to the fridge to retrieve a cold beer.

Chell texted back quickly. _Um, well she's a fan of orchids. Oh, and she likes singing. Older music mostly. Like opera._

Wheatley smiled, again, and replied. _I have heard her singing- shes beautiful._

"You are such a liar," Rick grinned, taking a drink and sitting on Wheatley's legs.

"Gah!" Wheatley snapped, "Get off, mate! You weigh like fifty trillion pounds!" He struggled. Rick set down his beer and reached over for Wheatley's phone. He lifted it out of his reach. "Fuck off! I'm just talking to a friend!"

"Don't make me beat you up, dude. That would not be a very fun adventure for you."

Wheatley glared.

Rick shrugged and adjusted his position so he was straddling Wheatley, and snatched for his phone.

All the while, Wheatley just wriggled underneath him. "Get off you asshole!"

"Stop being a fag and just give me your phone."

"You're the one on top of _me_, mate!"

Rick placed his hand on Wheatley's face and pressed down. "Phone."

"MM! PHUCKOO!"

"Phone."

Wheatley dropped his phone on the ground and shoved Rick off. "God damnit! You fucking smashed my glasses with your oversized _ape hands_!" He hollered and ripped off his glasses, trying to straighten them out. Rick grabbed his phone up off the floor and sat regularly on the couch.

"I hate you so fucking much," Wheatley growled.

"Let's see here," Rick mused, "Oh, _Chell_ texted you back."

"Rick-"

He adjusted his voice to be way too high pitched. "_Yeah she is a great singer. Are you planning something?_" Rick grinned and put on his award-winning British accent and began texting back. "_Oh of course love, to get allllll up in her knickers_."

Wheatley slapped on his glasses. "_RICK_!"

"_Send_!"

Wheatley ran his hand through his hair and snatched his phone back from his laughing roomate. "You are such an _ass_," he hissed and quickly texted.

_Oh my gosh, im so sorry. That was my roommate._

"So you're talking about Gladie?" Rick smirked.

"Her name is _Gladys_," Wheatley snapped. Come to think of it, Wheatley bet if he ever called Gladys _Gladie_ she'd probably kill him. Kill him with a knife. Painfully.

"She's a _beautiful _singer, hm?"

Wheatley huffed and stood before Rick could see him blush. "Yeah. Now leave me alone."

"Good luck!" Rick patronized.

Wheatley rolled his eyes and made his way to his room. His pocket buzzed and Wheatley sighed before reading.

_LOL. Well your roommate sounds really funny. I just about fell over I was laughing so hard._

Wheatley chuckled to himself and sat down on his bed. _Phew. I thought you were going to think I was crazy and never talk to me again._ Send.

Jesus, Rick. Wheatley didn't know why he put up with his bull crap. Well, he was his best friend. But still. He's an asshole. He's an asshole like, forty percent of the time.

So, Wheatley carried on with his conversation with Chell throughout the night, only going to sleep when she said she had to go, about two hours later. She was so easy to talk to. Maybe they could be friends. Good friends! Wheatley didn't think he ever had a girlfriend. Well, friend who was a girl. Like, a cool girl-friend anyway.

She didn't have a whole lot of information on Gladys, but she had some that might help him out.

She likes Italian food, orchids and animals (deer being one of her favorites, birds being her least favorite). She hates stupid people more than anything in the world followed up by stupid questions and stupid comments. Figures. Finally, she enjoys, as far as Chell knew, being alone with her work and experiments. Tests, for science.

So, piling all of this information together, Wheatley knew he had to do one thing, and one thing only.

Read.

…And learn. Remember stuff so he can have confidant, intelligent conversations with his boss. Easier said than done.


	7. A Date, A Cave

"Historically science has its roots in peoples' efforts to understand and explain the world and the universe around them of which they are a part. While many observations were made about phenomena here on earth, the heavens were also observed. People wanted to know what was going on and why. Their interest was born of concern and fear as well as curiosity. They wanted to feel some degree of control of their lives or at least be able to explain what was going on and why. Our collective knowledge about our environment, the earth and the sky, came about slowly through observation and interpretation of those observations. Knowledge was accumulated slowly in different societies… Oh _god_, I am not going to be able to do this!"

Wheatley put his head down on the table and sighed loudly. "Riiiiiiiick… I can't do thiiiiis. Gladys is going to rip her hair out trying to talk to me!"

"Well, you're starting off with hard stuff," Rick mused, trotting over, "You can't just dive into the deep end of the world, bro. You have to start out shallow." He leaned over and turned Wheatley's laptop so it faced him. All Wheatley heard was tapping of a keyboard before he scooted it back to Wheatley.

"There," his roommate declared, "Freaking physical science."

Wheatley lifted his head. "I learned that shit in seventh grade, Rick."

"Exactly," Rick drawled, "Start with the shit you've learned. And go from there."

The assistant sighed. "When did you get so smart."

"I'm not," Rick chuckled, "I just watch way too much television."

_#_

Within two hours, Wheatley was up to collage type science, some stuff sinking in, most stuff… blowing right over his head. Then again, he was just skimming. But Rick's advice did help a little. Starting from the bottom and moving up to the top. When Wheatley was taking a break and just sitting on the couch watching mindless television with Rick, his phone buzzed.

He took out his phone to see a text from Chell. He smiled.

_Wussup, Aptur. Working on sciencey stuff?_

Wheatley replied. _Just got done doing a mini-cram session, but im pretty sure it didn't help much._

"Texting whats-her-butt again?" Rick grinned Wheatley's way.

"Yeah," Wheatley smiled and set his phone down.

Rick narrowed his eyes at his roommate. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That."

"What?"

Rick cocked an eyebrow. "That smile. _Yeah_? _Yeeeaaaahhhh…_"

Wheatley rolled his blue eyes. "Whatever, mate. Think what you want but she's just a friend."

"She better be. I don't want you getting murdered or something."

"What?"

"From what you tell me about this Gladys woman, she sounds pretty hardcore," Rick explained, "And I bet if you broke her heart, she'd definitely murder you."

"I'm not going to-"

"Dead."

Wheatley sighed. "I'm not going to break her heart." His phone buzzed.

_Well I wouldn't expect it to. Want to meet up and maybe I could show you a few things?_

Wheatley smiled again. _Yeah sure! That'd be great. Much appreciated._

"What'd she say?" Rick asked leaning over to catch a peak.

Wheatley exited from the conversation and set his phone down. "Will you butt out?"

"_What did she say?_"

Wheatley rolled his eyes again. "She wants to get together sometime. To help me _study_."

"Riiiiiiight."

Wheatley shoved him. "Whatever! She's not like that. Besides, she knows I'm taken and she's way too nice to do anything. So _butt out_."

"Mmhm."

"Ugh."

Chell replied, Wheatley read. _Cool. Tomorrow at lunch? I know a really awesome place. I go there all the time._

Wheatley answered. _Sounds like a plan!_

_#_

"Where are you going?"

Wheatley froze and turned. "Just… out to lunch."

"You never go out to lunch," Gladys pointed out, hands on her hips.

"I don't?"

"No," Gladys mused.

"Oh," Wheatley scratched his head. Why did he need to keep this a secret? Yeah. They were just friends! Friends having lunch together. "Well I'm making an exception for a friend."

"A friend."

"Yes."

Gladys smiled a little and tilted her head to the side. "You don't _have_ friends, Aptur."

Wheatley pursed his lips and glared. "I do too! Why does everyone assume I'm forever alone or something?"

"Because you are," she purred.

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "Right."

"Right."

He continued to glare into those deep amber eyes, wishing he wasn't so… attracted to them. He broke the eye contact with a blink and turned for the door. "I'll be back in an hour."

Wheatley could almost feel the glare burning a hole in the back of his head.

_#_

"Hey," Wheatley smiled at Chell once he found her at the small café just outside the collage.

She returned the smile and waved.

"So this is the place?" he mused, sitting down across from her.

Chell nodded and leaned over to her backpack on the ground. She pulled out two large (and fairly intimidating) books and a notebook (also very large and intimidating).

Wheatley's eyebrows raised. "You carry all this? Daily?"

She nodded again, giving an expression as if to say, _plus more_.

"Wow," he chuckled and paused before saying, "I've been meaning to ask. Why are you so quiet all the time? I don't think I've ever heard your voice, actually."

Chell smiled and lifted her hands, moving them to form shapes and with her hands and fingers…

Sign language?

"Are you deaf?" Wheatley asked, trying not to sound shocked.

Chell shook her head and reached for the notebook. She whipped out a pencil and wrote. _I'm mute._

Wheatley's eyebrows came together. "Really? That can happen to people?"

She nodded and wrote. _I was just that one percent, you know? Vocal cord junk._

Wheatley nodded. "Oh, well I've heard from the other students that you can talk to Gladys with ease."

Chell wrote. _She can read lips very easily. And she knows sign language._

"I've never seen you sign though."

She shrugged. _It's a personal thing. I don't want people thinking I'm deaf. So I just mouth._

"Oh," Wheatley deflated a bit, "Sorry, I didn't mean to assume-"

Chell shook her head and smiled, mouthing _It's fine_.

"Well alright then," Wheatley laughed, "Learn things every day, right?"

Chell grinned and wrote. _Yup! Let's get started shall we?_

_ #_

Throughout the rest of the week, Wheatley spent all of his lunch times with Chell. The first couple days were a time for studying… but on Friday, they were just eating and talking, mostly. Well, Wheatley did all the _talking_, Chell wrote or mouthed. Or signed, because Wheatley asked and wanted to learn.

All the while, Gladys sat at her desk wondering what he saw in her.

_#_

"You're wearing _that_?"

"Shut up," Wheatley snapped, "I like this shirt. Now answer my question."

"No tie, dude," Rick brushed off, "Ties are lame."

"I'm wearing a tie."

"Don't do it."

"Why not?" Wheatley mused, "That's what swag stands for, you know. She Wants A Gentleman."

A moment of silence passed and they both cracked up. "That," Rick laughed, "Just made my week. Thank you."

"Chell told me that yesterday," Wheatley chuckled back, "She has a great sense of humor."

"Heyyy," Rick warned.

"Oh, stuff a sock in it," Wheatley sighed.

"You've been spending a lot of time with her lately," Rick drawled, leaning against his roommate's door frame, "Time you could be spending with Gladie."

"Stop calling her that."

"Make me."

Wheatley turned and glared, but then sighed. "You're an asshole."

"You're just mad because you know I can beat the shit outta you."

"Maybe."

They both laughed again.

"Anyway," Rick said, "Lose the tie."

"I'm keeping the damned tie."

"So then it's decided that you're _not_ getting laid tonight."

Wheatley rolled his eyes and turned to face his green-eyed roommate. "No, Rick. Remember? I told her we needed to take a break from physical stuff. So, yeah. No sex until next week."

Rick facepalmed. "I still can't believe you did that."

"It's for a functional relationship-"

"One of you two is gunna cave tonight," Rick interrupted, "She's gunna wear some low-cut shirt, you're gunna… do whatever it is you did to get this chick in the first place-"

"Be awesome, you mean," Wheatley grinned and made eye contact with himself in the mirror, messing up his hair a little, "And ridiculously irresistible."

"…You keep telling yourself that," Rick said with an eye roll.

"Well if anyone's going to cave, it's her," Wheatley mused, straightening his shirt.

"Uh-huh."

"It will! And I'll have to beat her off with a stick. Because I'm me."

"Right."

"Right!" Wheatley declared, "Off I go!"

"You're fly is down."

"After one moment!"

_#_

Gladys tucked her hair behind her ear as she waited out front of one of her favorite Italian restaurants. Of course, she didn't tell _him_ it was one of her favorites, but still, she adored the food here and the service and atmosphere was nice.

Timely, peaceful, and controlled.

Unlike her date who was two minutes late now.

She sighed and brushed hair out of her bright eyes, wondering where he was.

_Oh, stop it Gladys. He's probably just being a moron who thinks that being fashionably late will earn him points._

She rubbed her arms. Kind of cold outside…

Considering that she wore a sleeveless turtle neck dress that was questionable in length, she had reason to be a little chilly. However she did love the way the all blackness of the dress itself contrasted with the yellow trim on the bottom.

Finally, Gladys saw his car pass by and she fixed her bangs so they drooped just a little over her eyes. When she saw him walking up, she ran her tongue over the upper row of her teeth and folded her arms.

"Glad to see you actually showed up," Gladys mused, moving her weight to one leg.

"Sorry," Wheatley smiled, "Saturday night, lots of people going out."

"Mm, makes sense," Gladys nodded. She ran her eyes down his body. Light blue shirt, figures, he really loves blue (and he looked good in it), black tie, black pants. Casual, yet formal. Nice.

He stuck out his elbow to her. "Shall we?"

Gladys pursed her lips together, a small smile forming as she hooked her arm in with his. "We shall."

The restaurant was packed, which Wheatley expected, however, he had made a reservation. Like a boss.

With the table name under Aptur, for two, they sat down in a quiet part of the establishment, with a window view of the outside part of the restaurant.

"Charming," Gladys smiled when Wheatley pulled out her seat for her.

"I try to be," he smiled back. After taking his seat, a waiter, a tall man with more-red-than-orange hair came up to their table.

"Here are your menus," he said as he handed them the hard black folders, "Anything to drink?"

"A glass of white wine, please," Gladys purred, "The brand doesn't matter."

"I think I'll have some white wine as well," Wheatley answered.

"Molto bene, very good," he smiled and walked off.

Amber met blue, then. "So, why here?" Gladys asked.

Wheatley shrugged. "Drove past it. And a friend recommended it."

"A friend."

Wheatley grinned. "Yes, I have those."

"Mm."

"You look nice tonight, by the way," he complimented.

"Thank you."

"So black, white, and yellow," Wheatley smiled, "They suit you." He just noticed the dark grayish-red lipstick she wore. Deep and somber; it suited her.

"As blue to you," she smirked back, "Keep wearing that color and I'll begin to question the vastness of your wardrobe."

Wheatley chuckled. "Well considering I'm a man, you'd think one would be confused to see if I had a vast wardrobe."

"Nonsense, I know men who have large wardrobes."

"Are they gay?"

Gladys smiled. "Touché."

Wheatley returned the sweet smile.

The waiter came back with two wine glasses of clear-yellowish liquid and set them in front of the couple. "Have we decided?"

"Oh, uh-" Wheatley stumbled.

"Ah, yes," Gladys mused, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip, "I'll have your famous Italian torte and the sir will have your shiitake angel hair pasta."

Wheatley cocked an eyebrow at her. _The sir. Well then_.

"Sí, good selection," the waiter smiled and walked off after collecting their menus.

Gladys took another sip of her wine.

"Please tell me what you got for me is good," Wheatley grinned, adjusting his glasses.

"It is," Gladys purred, "This place has fantastic cuisine. One of my favorites actually."

"Really?"

"Really."

Wheatley chuckled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged softly. "The length of my talkativeness leaves something to be desired." She kept her voice low and smooth, almost never leaving eye contact with her date. "Try the wine, it's lovely."

Wheatley brushed a few hairs out of his eyes and picked up the glass. Taking a sip, he closed his eyes for a second, breaking Gladys' seductive hold on his eyes. Well, the wine was good. But was she actually flirting? That's a new one. Was this about the whole him-spending-so-much-time-with-Chell thing? Maybe she was jealous. Ha. That, right there, is hilarious.

Maybe she was going to cave tonight.

"So?" Gladys prompted.

"Oh, um, yeah- yes," Wheatley nodded, "Good. Haha, not used to all this fanciness, I suppose."

"Don't get the chance to dine out, much?"

"Not really," Wheatley smiled, "I'll get the occasional request from my friend Rick, but those are normally pubs n' stuff. Nothing like this," he paused, "Do you come here often?" Oh, geeze. He just used the oldest one in the book. _Smooth_. "Heh."

Gladys just smiled. "As often as I can," she sighed, "But I'm always wrapped up in other things."

"Yeah, I get that."

"Do you like Italian?"

"I eat it when I can," Wheatley answered, "Not high up on the list. I bet you eat like a queen all the time."

"I have a very controlled diet," Gladys replied, "Eating what I need before small pleasures."

"Such as?"

"I adore chocolate," she smiled, "White, dark, milk. Especially mousse. With raspberries," her closed-mouth smile widened and she closed her eyes for a second and took a sip of her wine, as if she was imagining it right in front of her, "To die for."

Wheatley grinned at her. "Nice."

"And yourself?"

Wheatley tried to think of something different because the first thing that came to his mind was his mother's cookies. How lame is that. "I am a huge fan of pastries, frankly." And that was true. What he wouldn't give for a maple bar right now.

"Like danishes?"

"More like doughnuts," he chuckled, "Like the mini powdered ones at the circus?"

Gladys grimaced a little.

"Oh, don't knock it till you try it Ms. Health-Nut."

Gladys smiled and rolled her eyes. And then, as if on cue, the waiter showed up with their dishes.

"Torte for la signora and shiitake pasta for l'uomo," the waiter smiled, handing the dishes to them, "buon appetio!" And like a ghost, he was gone.

Wheatley looked down at his food. "Wow, this looks amazing."

"It's strange," Gladys mused, picking up her utensils, "In foreign countries, presentation is everything, right up there with taste. Food is valued very highly. In France, meal time is almost sacred. But here in America," she cut a piece of the torte, "It is about quantity, and business. Not quality," she put the small piece in her mouth and smiled as she chewed and swallowed, "Part of the reason I prefer foreign food. So much more attention and hard work. Time an effort. The pursuit of perfection."

Wheatley smiled at her, loving the lustrous sound of her voice.

"Well, don't just sit there and let it get cold."

"Oh, uh, sorry. Heh," he drew up all the things his parents ever taught him about eating pasta. Cut. Twirl with a large spoon. Chew with your mouth closed. With that, he eyed the larger spoon off to the side and cut some of the thin noodles, twirled them up in the spoon, and careful to avoid dangling noodles, he placed the fork in his mouth, allowing the flavor to spill over his tongue.

Gladys smirked at him with approval, and continued eating

Success!

Now just to do that about forty more times. "Mmhm," Wheatley mumbled before swallowing, "That's delicious!"

Gladys nodded softly and took dainty bites between sips of wine.

Geeze, she had manners.

She was like one of those crazy women you only see in movies who have regular dinner dates with the queen of England. Sheesh.

The rest of the dinner was somewhat silent, Wheatley making small conversation between bites. The waiter only came by again to refill their glasses and left. When they were both finished, around the same time, the waiter soundlessly taking their plates and walking off to god-knows-where.

"Well, that was _lovely_," Wheatley grinned.

Gladys gave him a small smile in return and raised her glass to him. "Indeed."

He raised his glass to her in return. They tapped their glasses with a small _tink_ and drank. Gladys gave him a half-eyed smile and sat back. "So-"

The waiter reappeared, like the ghost he was. "Will we be having any dessert tonight? We have some nice gelato and cake."

Wheatley looked to Gladys who shrugged. Wheatley looked up to the waiter. "Do you happen to have any chocolate mousse?"

"As a matter of fact, we do," he nodded.

Wheatley looked to Gladys. "Would you like to share."

Gladys smiled at him. "Why not."

"One serving of chocolate mousse, coming up," the waiter announced, "Would you like something with it? Chocolate shavings, gelato, fruit…"

"Do you have raspberries?" asked Wheatley.

"Yes we do," the waiter grinned, "I'll be back in a flash." And he was off.

"Whaddya know," Wheatley drawled.

"Thank you," Gladys said, tucking hair behind her ear, "You did not have to."

"Hey," Wheatley mused at her, "No need to thank. Just me having a good memory."

"I told you about my chocolate love just thirty minutes ago."

"My good thirty-minute memory."

Gladys chuckled quietly.

"It's a miracle," Wheatley smiled, "she's laughing again, ladies and gentleman."

"Oh, shut it."

"Pfft. _Never_."

"Here you are," the waiter said, trotting back up to their table. He set the small dish with fluffy whipped chocolate on the table. It was covered in raspberries as well. "Buon appetio! Also, here is your check; thank you for dining here tonight." The man gave one last smile and walked off to tend to another table.

"Ooh, quaint," Gladys mused, picking up her spoon.

Wheatley glanced down at the check. Mm. Not as bad as he'd thought it was going to be. He is paying for it all, but he planned for it costing more. Sweet.

Gladys scooped up some of the fluffy dessert along with a decadent raspberry and placed the spoon in her mouth, and pulling it out with a smile on her dark lips. "Oh, my _god_," she sighed loudly, "I can't tell you how long it's been since I've had chocolate mousse with raspberries."

"Glad you like it," Wheatley laughed.

"I _love_ it."

Wheatley chuckled at her and took a spoonful himself. He didn't think he'd ever had chocolate mousse before…

"Holy crap!"

"I _know_!"

"So good."

"_Ridiculously_ good."

They both laughed at their rambling. "See," Wheatley smiled brightly at her, "Not that much of a moron."

Gladys smiled back at him, "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Pfft," Wheatley scoffed, "So what were you saying earlier?"

"Hm?"

"Before the waiter came you were like, _So…_"

"Oh, right," she swallowed, "So, I was wondering if I could see your home."

Wheatley almost choked on a raspberry. "What?"

"You've seen mine, I see it only fit."

"Gladys-"

"Wheatley." She raised an eyebrow at him.

He swallowed. "Uhm."

She leaned over the table a little, pushing out her lips just slightly giving her a tenebrous, pouty, yet kind of intimidating-pissed off look. "It's been a week."

"I said two weeks," Wheatley replied, pinching his arm to keep from blushing. It wasn't helping. It normally helped. Fuck.

She dropped her lower lip just a little bit.

Wheatley broke her breath-taking gaze and scratched the back of his head. God damn it, Rick was right. "Gladys…" he sighed quietly.

"Don't make me go home and do it myself," she purred so quietly he almost didn't catch it.

Oh god. Image. Fuck. He didn't dare meet her eyes. "Uhh, heh. Um."

She chuckled darkly. "I'll follow your car."

"A-alright."

They stood and Wheatley pulled out his wallet with un-steady hands.

Gladys stepped towards him, leaning close to his ear. "Thank you for dinner, by the way. Very… gentlemanly of you."

Wheatley nodded softly, feeling her hot breath on his neck. She pecked his cheek and sauntered out, perfect hips swaying. Wheatley smiled to himself and took out some cash to pay for the meal plus a tip for the speedy waiter.

Well, Rick's gotta be right some of the time.

Even if it is most of the time…

Wait, what?

Never mind.

Wheatley left the restaurant for his car.

When he sat down he sighed. _Guess the tie worked_.

Then his phone buzzed. "Huh?"

Taking it out, he found that Rick, _of-fucking-course_, texted him.

_So how'd it go, tie boy?_

_SIGH._ Send.

Wheatley pulled out, and drove down the small parking lot onto the street. Then he saw in his rear-view mirror a white car following him. Probably Gladys.

Oh geeze.

He didn't even clean his room.

It's probably a disaster. Underwear everywhere, dishes with old food on them, unmade bed…

Oh _man_, his apartment is going to look like a shit-hole, compared to her house.

Her bed smelled like vanilla and roses! His probably smells like angst and… more angst.

Stupid Gladys. Stupid Gladys and her stupid… gorgeous seductive tone. Her deep eyes and… god those lips…

Wheatley shook his head. _Let's not crash before we get home, hm? Death is definitely a turn off._

His house was only about a mile and a half from the restaurant, so it was only a little while before he-_they_- made it back to his home.

"Fuck," Wheatley cursed just remembering. He didn't want Gladys to meet _Rick_. Oh god. She'll probably leave him for _him_! Mother fucker. This was just fabulous. His phone then buzzed in his pocket as he-_the_y_- _pulled into his apartment parking lot.

Gladys took the liberty of parking right next to him and promptly got out. Wheatley stayed in his car for a second to quickly text Rick.

He had said _lol that bad?_

Wheatley replied. _Get out of the house. I mean it._

Send.

Then he got out of his car to find Gladys leaning against it. "Ready?"

"Uh," Wheatley stammered, "Yeah, sure."

"So this is where you live?" she asked as they walked up together.

"Y-yea- yes," Wheatley chuckled nervously.

Gladys smiled at him. "Something wrong?"

"Uh, nope," Wheatley smiled back at her, "It's just my apartment is a mess and my roommate is… a mess as well." He pulled out his key to the doors, opening them, and leading Gladys to the elevator.

"Ooh, fancy," Gladys mused, "So your roommate… The man who called when-"

"Yes."

"Ah."

Wheatley's phone buzzed. He turned and pulled it out so Gladys didn't have a chance of reading. _She's totally with you isn't she. Ohmygod, I was right. Sooooo right. Yeah, I'm not going anywhere._

Wheatley quickly texted back. _I haaaaaaate you_.

"Texting?" Gladys leaned against him.

"Yeah," Wheatley replied softly and thought to himself. _Seems a little off… Obviously not full on drunk- it was only two cups of wine. _

"Is it my _star pupil_?" she drawled, _star pupil_ not being said in the happiest of tones.

"Nah," Wheatley replied truthfully, "Just another friend. A stupid, stupid friend."

She chuckled.

Two more floors to go…

She began to nuzzle into his neck when they hit his floor. "Here we are," he declared, stepping away from his mildly-intoxicated boss.

"Oh, lovely," she said, cocking an eyebrow.

He could hear the sarcasm in her voice. "I'm just down the hall. Allons-y. Heh." The only bit of French he knew.

"Allons-y," Gladys smiled, "Oui, mon petit imbecile."

He didn't have to speak French to get what that meant.

When they got to his apartment, Wheatley took in a breath before opening the door.

"Heyyy!" Rick welcomed, "Welcome to our little abode!"

"Hello," Gladys mused, "You must be Rick."

"Indeed I am," he gave a charming grin, "And you Gladys?"

She nodded. "Does Wheatley talk about me much or something?"

"More than you know," he replied between his teeth.

"Alright!" Wheatley interrupted and took his employers arm, "This is my living room, not as… tidy as it could be," he just remembered his room, "Hold it riiiight there." And with that, he dashed down the hall and entered his room. Oh, god, it was a disaster. Alright, speed cleaning time.

Dirty clothes- under the bed. Closet doors- shut. Bed- semi-made. Dirty dishes- stacked.

He straightened up a little bit more before gathering up the dishes (thankfully there were only like three) and dashed back out into the hallway to find Rick still flirting up a storm with Gladys.

_God damn it, Rick._

Wheatley quickly set the dishes on the kitchen counter and walked over to Gladys, his heart pounding. "Alright, heh."

Gladys smiled at him. "I don't know why you speak so poorly of him, your roommate is quite charming."

Rick grinned. "Why thank you. You're not so bad yourself-"

"Fantabulous to know that you guys are getting along."

"I'll be seeing you I guess…" Gladys drawled.

"Mmhm."

She slowly walked down the hall.

Wheatley angrily whispered to Rick. "What the fuck?"

"What?"

"Stop flirting!"

"Can't help it."

"I hate yo-"

"Oh," he whispered more quietly, "I slipped a condom into your nightstand."

He blushed. "You're leaving, right."

"Nnnnope."

"That's really gross bro."

"Yeah, I know."

"You better not be fucking, wanking it or something out here."

"Whatthefuck? No, of course not. That's messed up."

"_You_ are the _embodiment_ of messed up."

"Just go and get some," Rick whispered harshly, "I'm going to watch a pirated Avengers, thank you very much."

"What! I've wanted to see that movie for ages!"

"Sucks for you."

"Wheatley," Gladys interrupted.

The two arguing roommates looked over to see an impatient Gladys standing in Wheatley's door way.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Wheatley said sheepishly before leaning back into Rick, "Watch something else!"  
>"Nope!"<p>

"Fuck you!"

"No thanks. I thought you were with Gladie."

"UGH."

Wheatley gave up on his obnoxious friend and walked off to join Gladys who had since walked into his room. He walked in and slowly shut the door. "So, uh, this is my room-"

"Did he call me _Gladie_?" she said plainly.

"Uhhh," Wheatley hesitated, "Yes…? But I don't call you that. Just saying." Think about the knife; she probably has one concealed. Like a secret agent.

"My parents were the only ones who called me Gladie," she said in a quiet tone, her heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of his bedroom.

"Cute nickname."

"Don't you dare start calling me Gladie."

Wheatley waved his hands in front of himself. "I won't, I won't. Wouldn't even dream of it. Heh."

"Good," Gladys mused and looked around, "Cute room. Small, window view of the city. How much do you pay for rent?"

"It's not that bad, just a couple hundred."

"Lovely," she nodded, "Anyway, sit down," she pointed to his bed.

He swallowed for the billionth time that night and walked over to sit on the edge of his bed. She walked over to his door and flicked off the lights and then took a moment to take off her heels. She shrunk about two inches, then. Wheatley cleared his throat as quietly as he could and removed his shoes as well.

Gladys smoothly sauntered over to him. "Your roommate seems like quite the lady-killer."

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "He's a player, but he's my best friend."

"Cute," she seemed to growl under her breath as she stood in front of her assistant.

"I guess," Wheatley smiled.

She then proceeded to hike up her dress a little and straddle him, scooting close so their chests touched. Wheatley took in the smell of her neck. Like vanilla, or some other probably ridiculously expensive perfume. But it wasn't too heavy. Just right.

"So does this mean you're caving?" Wheatley asked quietly as she began to intertwine her fingers in his hair, "Because that means you get all my work for two weeks."

"I'm used to doing a lot of paper work, dear," she said, brushing her lips over his temple. She then removed his glasses from behind his ears and set them off to the side.

"I think you mean, _luv_," he chuckled.

"Sure," she mused before tugging at his hair, forcing his head up a bit so she could meet her lips with his, "_luv_." She over emphasized the l and ran her tongue over his lower lip, followed by locking their mouths together.

Only now did Wheatley remember how much he'd missed the taste of her lips, and kissed her back with abandon, wishing her just that much closer. Gladys pulled at his hair again, turning his head just a little to slide her tongue into his mouth. He sighed, sliding his tongue over hers, beginning to feel almost light headed.

_Well, _he concluded _there's no blood going to my head, now. Jesus._

Gladys began to lean on him a little bit more and she broke her heavy kisses, a line of saliva still connecting their lips. "Would you be a dear and get my dress for me?" she said and pecked his lips.

"Sure," he almost whispered back. He felt his way up her back to her neck where he found the zipper to her black turtle-neck dress. Zipping down, he dragged his fingers over her smooth skin, brushing over her bra at the center of her back, and down to her lower back where he could feel the hem of her most-likely lacey panties.

"Thank you," she purred and pushed him, encouraging him to scoot back. He did, moving back all the way to the head board where he watched Gladys strip down to only black underwear. He reached up to his tie, loosened it, and took it off, dropping it the floor without a word. Gladys crawled her way back up to Wheatley, "That feels so much better. Tight dresses are so restricting, you know?"

"Uhm, heh, no," he grinned at her, "I don't have that much experience in tight dresses, luv."

"I suppose that's a good thing," she chuckled at him, "Scoot down."

Knowing what she meant on the spot, he scooted down and laid flat down on his back, allowing Gladys to straddle him once more. She reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. "Blue button down shirts," she seemed to talk to herself, "They seem to be your trademark."

Wheatley smiled faintly at her, "Copyright 1987."

"When you were born?"

"Yeah, that's kinda what I was itching at there…"

She finished unbuttoning and leaned up and over him, her hair brushing his cheeks. "Ha. Ha. Ha," she patronized robotically. She ran her right hand down his chest only to come back up and intertwine with Wheatley's left hand, pinning it to the bed. She ran her free hand through his hair. "God, I love your hair," she sighed.

"I've noticed," he replied with a smirk.

"Don't ever cut it."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

Wheatley smiled at her. She rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss him feverishly, rubbing her thumb over his temple. Then, without warning, she adjusted her position so she had a leg in-between her assistants' and ground up against him, slowly picking up a rhythm.

Wheatley broke the kisses with a heavy sigh.

Gladys smiled and began placing open mouthed kisses over his neck, listening to his frequent quiet sighs and moans.

"Fuuck," he cursed off to the side, groping the bed with his free hand for something to grip.

"You're a little bitch, you know that?" she hissed into his ear before running her tongue over the shell, "Holding out for a week- you're insane."

"Ahh…"

"I should've just gone home," she purred ever so smoothly before grading her teeth over the skin of his throat.

"Haahh.."

She fought back sounds of her own when he began rubbing up against her as well. "But I'm just way too nice to let you go home alooohne," she choked up a bit and sighed into his neck.

Wheatley licked his lips and turned his head breathing hard into the sheets.

"Gladys…"he whimpered quietly.

He immediately regretted the whiney exhale when Gladys abruptly slowed down and met his glassy lust-filled eyes. "Mr. Aptur…" she breathed with a smirk.

He felt the hot blush all over his body and broke the eye contact by closing his half-open eyes and weakly laughing. She leaned down and began kissing him hungrily, darting her tongue in and out of his mouth with turns of her head.

"Mmhph," Wheatley mumbled against her lips. She lifted her head just a little. "What?" she growled in a low tone. "C-can I…?" he tugged at the belt on his pants.

She slowly at up and released his left hand. When he went to undo his pants she batted his hands away and began undoing them herself. "You," she undid his belt and unzipped the fly, "are one of a kind."

"Thanks…?" Wheatley breathed, trying not to stare at his boss' cleavage.

"I mean that," she smiled, pulling down his pants, "I don't think anyone has ever called out my name during sex."

Wheatley didn't think it was possible, but he blushed harder. "Uhm."

Gladys grinned at him, perfect teeth gleaming in the moonlight pouring in from his window. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you," she pulled his pants over his feet, "…much."

"Heh."

_Well this isn't embarrassing at all._

He sat up, suddenly remembering the condom. "Wait."

"What?" she replied placing her hand on the side of his face, leaning in to kiss him. He kissed back, but pulled away after a few seconds. "Uh, heh. I have a…"

Her lips fell to his neck, licking and kissing the skin she found there. He could feel her smile. "A condom?" she continued her ministrations.

Wheatley leaned his head against hers with a sigh, her kisses sending shivers down his spine. "Yeah," he breathed into her hair.

"Charming," she mused, lifting her head to kiss his jaw.

"So I need to…"

"Uh huh."

Wheatley began to move over to his nightstand, Gladys adjusted her position, moving around him to his back, attacking the other side of his neck.

"It's really hard-"

"I know."

"…to focus with you doing that…"

"..I know."

Wheatley blushed at smiled at her. "Yeah."

Gladys smiled against his skin, rubbing his arms and listening to him fumble with the small package. "Jesus, it's been a while since I used one of these."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Nice," she whispered.

"Thanks," he said and turned around, "Alright."

She glanced down and looked back up at him, smiling and biting her lip.

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Gladys kept smiling began laughing quietly. Wheatley grinned at her and leaned forward to kiss her slowly. She continued her chuckling against his lips as he pushed her down onto her back. He dragged his hands down her face, over her breasts and down to her hips, hooking his thumbs under her underwear. Gladys raised her arms over her head and sighed as he began to pull her last bit of clothing down her legs. He tossed them aside and leaned up and over her again, kissing her stomach in the process.

Wheatley looked over Gladys, her eyes practically glowing, she smiled at him.

He smiled back at her. "You are beautiful, you know that right?"

At that moment, he thought he saw a tinge on red on her cheeks. "Thank you."

Wheatley leaned down and pecked her lips. "Like, legitimately, gorgeous."

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. "Thank you."

He smiled at her and leaned down, kissing her leisurely, one hand on her hip, the other up at her head, caressing her forehead. Gladys sighed as he pressed his tongue into her mouth. He tasted her, felt her, _wanted_ her.

Gladys gasped when he entered her, gripping his hair, and moving her hips up and against his.

"Ah," he breathed into the air. Gladys began allowing sounds escape from her with every movement. At this moment, Wheatley wished Rick heard them. Fucking asshole deserves it.

In picking up a quick rhythm, the bed creaked, and Gladys pulled on Wheatley's hair harder as she finally came. He came shortly afterwards, leaning down to shakily kiss her lips before rolling over with a sigh.

"Haaah…" he breathed, wiping sweat off his brow. He sat up and scratched his head. Looking over at Gladys he reached over and ran his hand down her smooth hair.

She gave him a small smile and sat up, retrieving her panties and slipped them on.

Wheatley turned around, and scooted off the bed, to retrieve his robe to go to the bathroom.

"Be back in a second," he leaned down and pecked her mouth before walking out.

Gladys rolled over onto her stomach and sighed. God, what was she doing with this man… he was so nice and sweet… but she wasn't sure if she was ready for anything… serious. She hadn't had a serious relationship since collage… Maybe it was one of those situations where she thought she wasn't ready, but was and didn't want to accept it. Why hasn't she scheduled another appointment with her therapist? Stupid Wheatley, stupid great sex, stupid nice dinner…

She suddenly felt very sleepy and crawled up to the head of the bed, lifting and sliding underneath the covers. She snuggled down in the sheets, inhaling the smell of _him_. It was a unique scent, one that she loved. She tucked her almost-white hair behind her ear and nuzzled her face down in one of the pillows.

After a minute, she found herself drifting off when the door opened and shut quietly. "Rick," Wheatley mused, crawling back onto the bed after pulling his boxers back on, "is completely knocked out. Heh."

"Too tired to do it again," she groaned, stuffing her face further into the pillow.

Wheatley chuckled and climbed into bed with her. "I wasn't suggesting, but alright."

"Mmhm."

"What? I wasn't"

"Mmmm…"

He smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her head. She responded by lifting her head, eyes still closed, and nuzzling up in his neck, intertwining their legs. He placed a hand on her hip and pressed close.

Gladys exhaled into his neck. "I'm sorry I called you a bitch."

Wheatley bit back a laugh. "Ha, it's fine. I kind of deserved it."

She smiled against his skin. "Still pretty hot though, that whole thing."

Wheatley blushed and rested his head on hers. "Yeah."

Gladys closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking in his intoxicating scent. "You really think I'm beautiful?"

Wheatley smiled. "Absolutly."

She brushed her hand through his hair and kissed his jaw. "Thanks."

He closed his eyes and sighed against her head, hoping, _praying_, he wasn't actually falling for his boss.


End file.
